Sideways
by AmyD and Suisan
Summary: When an out of town FBI agent is found on the side of a road beaten, the team must figure who did it and why.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

_This story came about after my Evil Twin sent me a link to video clip created by the F.B.I. to explain the newly created Art Crimes Team. This story contains multiple **O**riginal **C**haracters as well as the team themselves. The OC's come from the Art Theft Crime team based out of Washington, D.C.  
_

_The OC's are as follows: _

Abagail 'Abby' Stroud: Team leader. She is smart and tough and has a tendency to focus too much on her cases and not enough on taking care of herself.

Doug Miller: Second in Command. Doug had a very nice NFL career as a linebacker until a underhanded tackle blew out his knee and ended his career. The NFL payed for his college degree.

Daniel Webster: He has been with Abby's team for three years. He comes from money but walked away from it. His speciality is Mayan artifacts.

George Staunton: A puppy. He's been out of the FBI Academy less than a year and Abby's team is his first assignment. He is a whiz with computers.

Joel Rigby: Abby's boyfriend. He is a Secret Service Agent who works in the Counterfeit Money divsion.

Claire Miller: Doug's wife. She is the executive assistant to the Undersecretary of State for East Asian and Pacific Affairs.

_Both my evil twin and I hope you enjoy this story. We do try to respond to comments but we do need a name and/or e-mail address. Flames, pitchforks, etc. will be cheerfully ignored. This fic is written purely for enjoyment and no money is being made from this story (don't we wish). With the exceptions of Abby Stroud, Doug Miller, Daniel Webster, George Staunton, Joel Rigby and Claire Miller, all other characters are the creations of Cheryl Hutton and Nick Fallacci and the property of Scott Free Productions, Cheryl Hutton and Nick Fallacci._

_I would like to thank my Evil Twin for giving me a sounding board, working on dialogue with me and reading the scenes as they came. I would also like to thank my beta reader extraordinare Antoinette.  
_

_Please don't sue us, we're poor. _

_Twisted Evilettes _

**Prologue**

"Jeez, Tamara. I can almost see not charging the cell phone, 'cause I've done it myself but letting your battery die? What? You didn't notice your car's headlights were still on? Where's your brain? You're lucky the club let you back in to use the phone." Brittney Tanner groused at her friend, Tamara James, as she drove down Rio Road in Yorba Linda. She scowled at the rain coming down.

"Okay, in my defense….well, I don't have a defense. It was starting to rain and I didn't want to get wet." Tamara said.

Brittney sighed. "Well, you got wet waiting for me, didn't you?"

"Not really." Tamara replied. "Thanks for coming to get me."

Brittney slowed the SUV further, the increasingly hard rain blurring the road in front of her. "Look at this mess. You are so paying for gas."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah...I'll probably never hear the end of this either, will I?"

"Not if I can help it."

"Brittney, slow down." Tamara told her friend not five minutes later.

"What for? I'm already doing well below the speed limit."

"I can see something in the road. Slow down before you run over it."

Brittney peered through the windshield. "I don't see anything. Just what did you have to drink tonight anyway?"

"Brittney...BRITTNEY! STOP!!!" Tamara's shriek cut through the noise produced by the pouring rain. The Tahoe squealed to a stop.

"What the FUCK are you doing YELLING like that? You WANT me to get into a wreck?!" Brittney shrieked at Tamara.

"Look! I told you there was something in the road!"

Brittney followed her friend's finger and could just barely make out a lump in the road.

"That had better be a dead body." She huffed. Pulling up the hood of her raincoat, she rolled down the window and peered out into the driving rain. "I can't..." She squinted, straining to see in the gloom. "Oh, my God! It's a body! It is a dead body! Shit!"

"What?"

"It's a body!!!" Brittney snapped at her friend. "Okay, don't panic, don't panic."

"What are you talking about?" Tamara asked.

"Tamara, SHUT UP!" Brittney closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them, looked up and remembered. "Thank you." She whispered, pushing the blue button on the rear view mirror.

"This is OnStar, how can I assist you today?" A female voice came over the speaker.

"There's a body in the road!" Brittney blurted out, her momentary calm gone.

"Ma'am?" The operator asked.

"There's a body in the road in front of me!" She tried not to shriek but it was hard, especially with Tamara hanging onto her arm with a death grip.

"Ma'am, are you hurt? I'm not seeing any front-end collision warnings…."

"Not me!!! The guy!" Brittney took a deep breath and tried again. "I was driving a friend home and she yelled at me to stop and I did and when I looked out the driver's side window, there's a body in the road."

"Ma'am? Miss Haversham, please remain calm while I contact the Orange County Sheriff's office..."

Brittney exchanged a look with Tamara.

****"Orange County Sheriff's Office, how can I direct your call?"****

"This is Pat with OnStar, I have a customer reporting a body in the roadway, she's on Rio Road, just south of the Rivera intersection. Stand by while I patch her in. Miss Haversham, please tell the Sheriff's Office what you see."

"I can just make out a man lying in the road. I nearly ran over him."

"You didn't run over him because I yelled." Tamara added.

"Shut UP, Tamara."

The Orange County dispatcher took over. "Ma'am, can you tell if he's alive?" In the background another voice could be heard dispatching police, fire and Ambulance services to the location.

"No, and I'm not about to get out and check either."

"I understand, Ma'am. Have you put your four-way flashers on? If not, please do that now and stay inside your vehicle."

Brittney did and then looked at her friend "Tamara, you are paying for a hell of a lot more than gas."

The Sheriff's dispatcher broke back in. "Ma'am? The nearest unit - police officer - will be there in under a minute."

"Okay."

In the distance, the women could hear the wail of the siren. "I can hear them." Brittney said.

Within seconds, flashing lights blinded the two girls as more than one emergency vehicle pulled up and men, and at least one woman, piled out of cars to approach both the body and the Chevy.

Pat, the OnStar operator, who had stayed on the line without being asked, broke into Brittney's concentration. "Miss Haversham, is there anything else I can do for you this evening?"

"No, thank you. You've been a big help."

"You're welcome. I hope your evening improves and thank you for using OnStar."


	2. Chapter 2

**Act One**

It was a slow, slow night in the Placentia Linda Hospital ER. Even with the rain-slicked streets adding to the fun, it was quiet in the ER. Quiet until notice of an inbound ambulance with possible serious injuries on board. By the time the ambulance was backing into the unloading area, three nurses and an ER doctor were waiting. After unloading the patient, commands flew thick and fast. The man was stripped of his wet clothes and covered in heated blankets. Tests were ordered and x-rays taken. But when it came time to fill out the admitting forms, there was a problem. There was no name to put down. No name, no address, no nothing. So, the man in Trauma Bay One became Placentia Linda's first John Doe of the year. Not too much later, Orange County Sheriff's Corporal Sean Weir made his wet and soggy way into the ER in an attempt to find out just who John Doe was.

"Evening, Corporal Weir." R.N. Ann Jascke said, when he squished into view. "Here about our John Doe?"

Corporal Weir nodded and sent a fine spray of water droplets over everything near him. He grimaced and took off his hat. "Sorry about that."

"Just water." Ann replied, blotting the nurse's station counter dry with a paper towel. "You're welcome to take off your slicker and leave it back there." She waved toward an empty office behind her.

Corporal Weir grinned. "You're an angel. I hate having to wear it for the whole shift." He shrugged out of the raincoat. "It's hot, stiff and smells like a wet dog. Where can I hang it?"

She held out her hands. "I've smelled worse. Gimme your hat too." When he relinquished the items, she said "Good, now you won't make a puddle on the floor. Your boy's in Bay One."

Giving thanks for people like Ann, Corporal Weir made his way over to Bay One, fingerprint kit in hand and pushed back the curtain surrounding the Bay just enough to step inside before pulling it back around him and the victim. He took a couple of moments to study the man; he hadn't gotten a good look at John Doe out on the road. Kinda hard to see at night in the middle of a rainstorm. He set his fingerprint kit down on the rolling table and pulled a notepad and pen from his breast pocket. He needed a good description in case the man's fingerprints weren't in the system.

Caucasian, dark brown hair appeared to be in his late thirties. He put the notepad away and opened the fingerprint kit. He pulled out an inkpad and a 'ten card' so called because there were five fingers on each hand, totaling ten fingerprints per card. Working quickly but not so as to confound the treatments already started for the man, he gently took the man's left hand from under the warming blanket, inked the man's fingers and pressed them down onto the card. He repeated the process with the man's right hand. He then cleaned both and tucked them back under the warming blanket. He made a mental note to speak to the treating doctor before leaving to get a better idea of the man's injuries.

The chore of fingerprinting done, Corporal Weir turned to an examination of the man's clothes, such as they were. Hopefully, there would be some clue to the man's identity somewhere in the mass of soaked clothes He slipped on a pair of latex gloves and pulled out the first thing his hand came in contact with; a pair of sneakers. A through exam of them revealed nothing other than the fact that his shoes were worn on the outer edge more than on the inner edge. Setting the shoes aside, he pulled a pair of wet jeans from the bag next. Grimacing as his fingers worked through the sodden denim, he reminded himself that he had worked with far worse. The jeans held no clues, they were mass market. They could have been bought anywhere in the U.S. The same applied to the man's shirt, underwear and socks. His clothes were absolutely no help. They would not be telling him who the man was or what he was doing in Yorba Linda.

Corporal Weir sighed and pulled the man's belt from the bag. If there were no clues in the man's clothes and his prints weren't in the system, he'd have to wait for the man to wake up and that could be days or weeks or months. Just what he needed, another unsolved case.

He checked the belt over, running his thumbs along the edges, hoping that maybe it was a money belt and that some form of id was hidden inside. When it was obvious it wasn't, he held the belt up to the light, looking for _anything_ that would give him a clue as to the man's identity and that's when he saw it; a 'dent' in the leather. He lowered his arms and ran a thumb over the 'dent'. Well, it wasn't so much as a dent as a place worn smooth by something rubbing against it. He measured the width of the 'dent' and got a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. The 'dent' was about the width of a holster for a service weapon, the leather worn smooth from where the holster had rubbed against it, just like on his belts. He shook his head and put the belt back in the bag with the rest of man's clothes. He looked down at the unconscious man and frowned. Unless he was totally misreading the 'dent' on that belt, and he didn't think he had, Placentia Linda's John Doe was a LEO and that made things far more complicated than they had been twenty minutes earlier.

Time to find the doctor.

**~*~*~*~*~*~**

"Three cracked ribs, a major concussion, hypothermia, a few contusions and heavy abdominal bruising. There's also the possibility of internal bleeding but I can't say on that just yet. There's also significant bruising around the thighs and the knees. His left patella's cracked but not broken." An ER doctor by the name of Hartsell went down the list of injuries suffered by John Doe before looking up at Corporal Weir. "Whoever he is, he either got the beating of his life or got hit by a car."

"Cracked patella? His kneecap? Ouch!"

"As I said, he either got the beating of his life or got nailed by a car."

Corporal Weir nodded, taking notes as Dr. Hartsell talked. "When do you think he'll regain consciousness?"

Dr. Hartsell shrugged. "It's hard to say when you're dealing with head injuries. Could be tonight, could be tomorrow, could be next week."

That got a sigh from the Corporal. "What's your take on John Doe? Is he a drifter? A businessman? What?" The more information he could get from the doctor, the better and opinions counted.

Dr. Hartsell took his time in answering. "If I had to hazard a guess..." He finally said, "I'd say he was a businessman who got crosswise with the wrong kind of people. His clothes are fairly new and he's in good physical shape."

Another nod from Corporal Weir. "Where is he going to be moved to from here?"

"A non-surgical ward most likely, second or third floor. He should be moved in the next couple of hours. I'm waiting to see if he has any internal bleeding."

Corporal Weir looked over his notes then up at Dr. Hartsell. "All right, that'll do it for me. Thanks."

Dr. Hartsell flashed him a quick grin. "Any time."

Corporal Weir stood in the hallway outside of Trauma Bay One after the doctor left, taping his pen against the notepad. Whoever he was, John Doe was quite a mystery and it was his job to solve that mystery.

"Back to the trenches, Corporal?" Ann asked when he came back to the nurses' station to collect his rain gear.

"No rest for the wicked." Corporal Weir replied. "Thanks again for taking my hat and slicker. Any time I don't have to wear 'em, it's a blessing."

"Not a problem at all." Ann handed the partially dry raincoat and hat back to him. "Got what you came for?"

Corporal Weir nodded, slipping on the slicker. "I'll be back, I'm certain. Have a good rest of the night." He put on his hat and headed for the exit.

"Stay safe, Corporal." Ann called after him. "I don't want to see you in here as a patient!"

Corporal Weir waved a hand to show he had heard before stepping back out into the wet, wet night.

**************************

It was the rumble of thunder that woke him. FBI Special Agent Daniel Webster awoke to the sounds of a major storm outside the window near him. He blinked a few times and tried to get his bearings. Outside, the rain slapped against the window followed by a fork of lightening stabbing the night sky and another rumble of thunder. His gaze wandered the darkened room. This definitely was not the car park he remembered stopping in. Okay. He was in what looked like a hospital room, his head was killing him, so was his stomach and everything else was sore. _What the...?_

Without thinking he started to sit up, to get a better vantage point to look from but quickly discovered that sitting up was a BAD idea. Sharp pains from his stomach drove the air from his lungs and left him gasping in pain. The pain from his stomach subsided just enough to let his body telegraph a throbbing ache from his left leg. He tried moving the leg but was 'rewarded' by another sharp pain.

He moaned, wondering what the hell had happened to him. Then his mind got in on the act...How long had he been in the hospital? Where exactly was the hospital? Did Abby know he was in a hospital? Did anyone know he was in a hospital? He had to find a phone. He had to contact his boss or, failing that, the nearest FBI office. He tried rolling on his side to see if there was a phone on the table near him but...but...he could hardly move. Another moan escaped him. He was so screwed.

"I see someone finally decided to wake up." A female voice came from the doorway. "How are you feeling?"

Danny blinked and looked at the woman. She looked vaguely like his boss, Abby. A bit on the tall side, brown curly hair. "Where am I?"

"You're at Placentia Linda Hospital in Yorba Linda, California." The nurse came closer and, with an economy of movement and very little fuss, started to take his vitals. That gave him a chance to read her name badge, which only had her first name listed and her level of nursing degree. _'Lindsey, RN_'

"How long?" Damn, it was hard to think with his head pounding.

Lindsey finished taking his pulse, lowered his wrist back to the bed and made a notation on a notepad before answering. "You were brought into our Emergency Department last night around 2100hrs, uh, nine PM."

"What time is it now?"

"Just after two in the morning. Six hours later."

He blinked and marshaled his thoughts, again. Man, he just ached all over. "I need...need a phone."

"Maybe later, in the morning. What we need, that is if you can say, is your name, Stranger. Unless you want to be called John Doe for the duration of your stay in our care?"

"What?" Something wonky had to have happened to his ears. She needed his name?

"Yeah, I know, odd request, but you were brought in with nothing other than the clothes on your back and the shoes on your feet."

If that was true, then Abby really didn't know where he was and he really did need a phone, RIGHT THEN. He tried sitting up again only to be reminded that that was a really bad idea.

"Look, John - or whatever your name is, you keep moving around and you're going to screw up what the docs did to patch your broken body up. RELAX before I sedate you."

He glared, or tried to, at the nurse. She didn't understand. "My name is Daniel Webster. I'm an agent with the FBI, I NEED a phone RIGHT NOW."

"Agent Webster, there is no way I'm letting you make a phone call in an agitated state." Lindsey reached over and hit the call button on the wall. "Blythe, I need the item we talked about."

Daniel let out a frustrated groan. "Abby's gonna kill me." he muttered.

"Agent Webster, if you're under threat of death, maybe I could call the local Sheriff's Office for you." A battle-axe of a nurse walked into the room brandishing a loaded syringe and handed it to Lindsey before walking around to the other side of Daniel's bed. "AFTER you rest." With that, Lindsey took the IV line hanging above Daniel's head in hand and, with a smooth motion, slipped the needle into a port and injected the medication directly into the flow.

Soon Daniel was feeling no pain and found he was having trouble holding his eyes open.

"It's not that. My...my boss needs...needs...to know..." He struggled to get out the rest of the words. What the hell had she given him? "Where..."

Lindsey patted him on the arm. "I'm sure the Sheriff's office will notify the proper authorities. Now sleep."

He blinked at her. "How can.... can...they...if...they..." And with that, he dropped off to sleep.

Lindsey looked over at Blythe and shrugged. "I've got him now, Blythe, Thanks for the assist. I'll just change the dressings while he's out and can't feel it. Go finish your rounds." Blythe, the LVN assigned to the unit that shift, nodded and left the room. "Daniel Webster, huh? Your folks had a twisted sense of humor." Lindsey soothed the patient as she changed the dressings and checked his IV lines to make sure he hadn't blown a vein in all his moving about. He hadn't and she left ten minutes later to make a phone call.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Settling behind the counter at the nurse's station, she dialed the phone and waited for someone at the Sheriff's Office switchboard to pick up her call.

"Orange County Sheriff's Department, how may I direct your call?" A woman's voice came across the line.

"Corporal Sean Weir please?"

"One moment." She was put on hold and then the operator came back. "I'm transferring you right now."

There was a click and then "Corporal Weir."

"Hey, Sean, it's Lindsey Irby at the hospital ... I got a name for our John Doe."

"Really?"

"He tells me his name is Daniel Webster and that he's an FBI agent."

"You don't say? Well, your timing is excellent. His prints just popped up on AFIS."

"And? Is he who he says he is?"

"Yep. He's right. He tell you anything else, like what might have happened to him?"

"No. He doesn't seem to recall or just plain ain't tellin' me, but the longer he rests the better the bruises will come up. In my opinion ... he was beaten, not hit by a vehicle."

"Okay. I'll contact the feds." Corporal Weir shouldered the phone and reached for his notepad. "You think it would do any good for me to come and speak with him now?"

Lindsey chewed on the end of a handy pen as she thought about it. "Maybe. I'd like him to get more rest tonight though, so maybe in the morning?"

"Gotcha. Thanks for the heads up."

"You're welcome." Loud noises from down the hallway made her look up. "Crap, gotta go. Loose patient."

"Talk with you later." He was chuckling when he hung up.

She dropped the handset into the cradle without so much as a goodbye, figuring she'd apologize to her sister's coworker later. Right now, Lindsey needed to help Blythe and the boys with Mister Wallerby who was clearly not happy with the world.

***************

"Hello?" Don answered his cell phone, wondering what the hell was so damn important that the FBI switchboard was calling him at ... he checked his watch and groaned ... 2:27am.

"Agent Eppes, this is Rhonda Soderquist ... I apologize for waking you but you're listed as the Team Leader on Call for Major Crime Division and, well, I think you need to be informed of a new development now rather than later."

"Uh-huh ... what is it, Rhonda?" He lay back in bed and covered his eyes with his free hand. Whatever the 'development' was it had better be earth shaking to get him out of bed at this unholy hour.

"We have a subject in one of the hospitals in Yorba Linda claiming to be an FBI agent ... and his prints did check back to an agent from DC."

Don sat up. Not exactly world ending but an agent being mugged was close enough. "Why wasn't he ID'ed off his credentials?"

"Apparently he was the victim of a mugging and/or a hit and run. No ID, no weapon, just his clothes and injuries."

"Great." Don scrubbed his hand up and down his face to stimulate blood flow. "Okay, get me what information you can on this potential agent and send it to my email account. I'm coming in."

"Yes, sir."

Don hung up the phone, made a trip to the bathroom, then started to call his team, starting with Granger, until he recalled the young agent was off on one of his SCA weekends. "Lucky bastard." He hit the auto-dial for Megan, while pulling his jeans on with the cell tucked between his ear and his shoulder. "Reeves, Eppes. Yeah, I know.... get into the office as soon as you can, we may have an out of town agent who just got rolled in Yorba Linda."

He hung up before she could cuss him out and called David's number.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

A half-hour later, Don was looking at the two very sleepy, grumpy and slightly soggy agents on his team as they each took a seat in the 'war room'.

"Wait a minute." David said, looking around the room. "Where's…."

"SCA." Don said, cutting him off.

David muttered something impolite in response.

"Luck of the draw, Sinclair, deal with it." Don said, before turning his team's attention to the case at hand. Up on the screen was the id picture of one Daniel James Webster, Art Theft Division; based out of Washington, D.C. Down the left side of the screen was Agent Webster's biographical information and work history with the Bureau. "This is what we know for now. Agent Webster was admitted to Placentia Linda Hospital in Yorba Linda as a John Doe at around 9:30 p.m. suffering from broken bones, hypothermia and a massive concussion. Orange County SO ran the man's prints through AFIS and up popped the id. Also, Agent Webster regained consciousness at 2:30 a.m. and identified himself to the nurses, one of which called the Sheriff's Office who called the Bureau and the call rolled over to us."

"What was he doing here?" Megan asked. "Or does he not remember?"

"Don't know, he wasn't awake long enough to tell anyone." Don replied. "That's why, you," He looked at David. "are heading out there to find out."

"Okay. What's his status?" David asked, concern coloring his voice. An attack on one agent was an attack on all agents.

"Stable. The fact that he woke up on his own is a very good sign." Don looked at Megan. "I need you to get him moved in closer. We don't need to be hiking out to Yorba Linda every time we need to speak to him."

Megan nodded.

Don sat down on the edge of the conference table. "We need to know what the hell happened and we need to now. Yesterday would be better."

Nods from both Megan and David.

"And while you two are doing that, I get the fun job. Calling Agent Webster's boss and telling him…her" He corrected himself. "what happened."

"Her?" David asked.

"Abigail Stroud." Don replied. "She's been with the Bureau almost as long as I have. Anything else?"

Silence was his answer.

**************

The rain let up not once the entire drive from downtown L.A. to Yorba Linda. Fortunately for David, and owning to earliness of the hour, there were hardly any cars on the road, allowing him to concentrate on driving and not on the crazy fools who weren't. He pulled into the Placentia Linda Hospital at 4:15 a.m., pulled his raincoat on and made the short dash from the car to the E.R. entrance without getting drenched.

Inside, the ER was quiet, which was odd for a rain soaked night but David paid that little mind. He was there for one purpose and one purpose only. Taking care not to track too much water in, he made his way to a cubicle set into the wall at the far side of the waiting room labeled 'Admitting'. He knocked on the frosted glass partition and waited.

A few moments later, the partition slid back and a petite woman with café au lait skin and almond colored eyes looked up at him. She held a clipboard in one hand. She peered out past him, then, seeing no one, looked back at him.

David smiled and pulled out his credentials. "I'm Special Agent David Sinclair, FBI." He held out the badge and ID for her to inspect. "I need to know what room Agent Daniel James Webster is in. He was admitted last night as a John Doe."

The woman, her name tag read _Barbara_, studied David's credentials for a long moment, her eyes flicking up to meet his before nodding. She turned away from him and typed something into the computer terminal next to her.

"He's in Room 323, Agent." She said, a few moments later.

"Thank you." David replied, flashing her a smile.

"You're welcome." She said, sliding the partition shut as he walked away.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

David's next stop was in the ER proper. He wanted, needed, to speak with the ER doctor who had treated Agent Webster but that particular doctor was busy with a patient at that particular moment.

"I'm don't know how long he's going to be Agent Sinclair." Ann Jascke, the same nurse who had spoken with Corporal Weir earlier, said.

He nodded. "Maybe you can help me."

"If I can."

"Were you here when Agent Webster was brought in?" If he couldn't talk to the treating doctor, the treating nurse was the next best thing.

She nodded. "He's been one of our few tonight."

"What happened?"

"That I can't tell you." Ann said. "He wasn't conscious when he was brought in, so, we have no idea."

"What's your personal opinion?" David asked. Nurses were usually pretty spot on with their observations and opinions.

Ann thought for a moment. "He was either hit by a car or got the 'you know what' beaten out of him."

He nodded. "What are his chances for survival?"

"Baring some unforeseen problem, he'll probably make a full recovery. His injuries are mostly broken bones."

Another nod from David. Before he could ask another question, a Sheriff's deputy, no, wait, a corporal, came out from the treatment area. "Ann? You need to call housekeeping." He addressed the nurse who merely nodded and lifted the handset to the phone.

The corporal continued talking to himself, "Two-two on the PBT and I'll bet he's still going up. Damn, I'd love to get him to agree to a spinal tap...."

"Isn't a spinal tap a little extreme for a non-injury accident, Corporal?" David asked, without introducing himself. Yet.

"Yeah, but it's the most accurate--" The corporal stopped and looked up at the speaker. "Suit, this time of the morning? You must be from the FBI."

David nodded. "David Sinclair." He held out his hand.

"Corporal Sean Weir. Gimme a moment--" Corporal Weir ducked his head into another treatment room for a second, then came back out. "Sorry about that, just telling the other deputy what his driver blew in the portable."

David nodded. "You were the one who worked the John Doe that was brought in here?" The corporal's name rang a bell but David didn't want to dig out his notebook just yet.

Corporal Weir nodded. "Yeah, damnedest thing ... vic looked like either roadkill or a gang bang gone bad, no ID ... but then, as I'm inventorying his clothing, I found that damned worn spot."

"Worn spot?" David asked, his curiosity piquing.

"On the man's belt, right about where you carry your concealed sidearm."

David's eyebrows went up and then he grinned. "Something only another LEO would notice, huh?"

"Pretty much." He pointed David toward a small room off behind the nursing station. "Let's go talk in private, shall we?"

David nodded and followed Corporal Weir into what turned out to be a small break room.

"What's your opinion of what happened?" David asked him.

"Originally I though he was a businessman who'd gotten lost and got sideways of one of our local wannabe gangs. Then I found that spot on the belt. Now I'm wondering if he was undercover, got made and - for some reason - whomever he was investigating didn't kill him. At least, not outright."

A nod from David. "He's FBI, out of D.C. but we don't have a clue as to what he was doing here."

"Well, he might be able to tell you himself ... but don't hold your breath, Agent Sinclair. He was thoroughly worked over."

"That's what I thought. That's also why I'm here. I wanted to talk to the doctor that had treated him but, uh.... he's busy at the moment."

"Ah, hell, he's only steri-striping a couple of mild gashes on a couple of 'drunken darlings' ... We're about to haul the kiddoes off to the jail, I'll let the doc know you're out here." Corporal Weir left the break room, walked back into the treatment bay he'd poked his head into before and, within seconds, a young doctor in maroon scrubs walked out of the treatment bay. David came out of the break room to speak with him.

"Dr. Hartsell? I'm Agent David Sinclair."

"Good morning, Agent ... a bit early your day - or are you here late?"

David smiled. "Early, waaaaaaaaaaay early. I'm here about the John Doe you treated last night?"

"Ah, the near road kill.... just a second." Hartsell handed a chart off to the nurse, "Ann, the deputies are taking all three to their fine facility to sober up and await their parents arrivals. I'm stepping outside for a few." He looked back over at Sinclair and waved for the agent to follow him out the ambulance entrance. Once outside, the doctor, someone who should know better, lit up a cigarette and leaned against the wall. "So, what can tell you about your fellow agent, Agent Sinclair?"

"How about what's broken?" He decided not to comment on the doctor's smoke break. It was none of his business anyway.

"Surprisingly, not as much as could've been - had he actually been hit by a car. Mostly his injuries are mere cracks, not full breaks, and a host of soft tissue bruising and insults."

"So, he wasn't hit by a car. Then, what happened to him? A gang bang?" David asked.

The doc took a drag, and then shook his head as he blew the smoke out. "I doubt it was gang related. No obvious kick injuries. However, I do think he was worked over by at least two people. Possibly just fists on the torso and face, but I suspect a foreign object was used on his thighs and lower legs."

David swallowed. "What, exactly, are his injuries?"

"Top of the list: A major concussion, cracked ribs and a suspected cracked patella. The rest is pretty much cosmetic with hypothermia and a variety of bruises and contusions thrown in."

"So, like he was held down and beaten?"

"Exactly. Wouldn't be all that surprised to see contusions presenting themselves on his upper arms in another 24 hours."

The longer he talked to the doctor the more he realized that a fellow agent had just been beaten within an inch of his life and that was not acceptable.

"You think he'll make a full recovery?"

"Providing he doesn't push too hard, too fast and listens to his physician back home ... yeah, he'll recover." Doctor Hartsell took a final drag off his cigarette and butted the dregs out in a nearby ashcan. "It'll be painful as hell, but, yeah, he should recover just fine. In about six weeks."

A rumble of thunder in the distance heralded the arrival of another rain storm as fat rain drops started to dot the half-dry walk way, sending both men back inside.

David held out his hand again. "Thank you, Doctor. If I've got any other questions, I'll contact you."

"No problem, Agent. I do hope your fellow agent upstairs makes a full recovery." Hartsell shook David's hand, then wandered off deeper into the Emergency Room to do who-knew-what while David looked for the best way to get up to the floor where Agent Webster was currently housed. In the elevator, he looked at his watch and yawned. His watch read 4:45 a.m.

"This is what you call the asscrack of dawn." He muttered.

The elevator doors slid open and he stepped out onto the 3rd floor. He identified himself at the nurses' station and was directed down the hall to the correct room. The door was open but the room lights were off, the only light coming from over the bed and the occasional flash of lighting from the outside. He looked down at the man in the bed. With the exception of a large lump forming on Agent Webster's left temple, he didn't look too bad. But as he so well knew, appearances could, and usually were, deceiving.

"We're going to find out who did this to you." David told the stricken agent. "Don't you worry about that." He settled into one of the chairs in the room to wait for the man to wake up. Maybe he could catch a little bit more sleep while he was at it. Before he did though, he clipped his badge to the outside pocket of his suit coat. That way, if Agent Webster woke up before he did, at least the man would know he was among friends. He stretched, settled deeper into the chair and dropped off to sleep almost immediately.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Not ten minutes later, Agent Webster, Daniel, woke up, yet another clap of thunder waking him. Disoriented, he looked around the room and tried to gather his bearings but it was no use. Whatever he had been given earlier had totally mucked up his ability to think. He lay there and tried not to panic. If he tried to get to a phone, that nurse would probably drug him again but he had to get word to Abby that he was still alive! How in the Hell was that going to happen if he couldn't even move?

A glint of light reflecting off of something caught his eye and he turned his head following the glint. A man he had never seen before sat, dozing in a chair next to his bed. A gold FBI badge clipped to his coat pocket. That's what had caught the light! He stared at the badge for a long moment relaxing for the first time since waking up in the hospital. Everything would be all right. The Bureau knew where he was, even if his immediate boss didn't. He closed his eyes and drifted back to sleep.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

When he next woke, he was witness to a conversation between the nurse, Lindsey? and that FBI agent he'd seen earlier. Their voices were lowered so he couldn't hear anything but he could guess that the subject was him. His eyes flicked to the window. It was lighter outside than it had been the last time he woke up so, he assumed that it was morning. The rain had stopped but the sullen sky and lowering clouds promised the return of it very soon.

"Good morning, Agent Webster." The nurse said to him.

He pulled his attention from the window, blinking owlishly at both her and the agent.

"Agent Webster, this is Special Agent David Sinclair." The nurse pointed at the man. "When I'm done, he'd like to talk to you."

He nodded. Maybe Agent Sinclair had some idea of what happened to him. He sure as hell didn't. The nurse -- yes, he remembered now, Lindsey was her name – took his vital signs and, quickly, ran through the same series of questions he'd been asked every time he'd been woken up.

"All done, Agent Webster. Not so bad this time, hmm?" She asked, smiling at him.

He shrugged.

"He's all yours, Agent Sinclair. I'll be just down the hall if you, either of you, need anything." Lindsey said to the other agent.

She gently patted Daniel on the arm and left.

Daniel studied Agent Sinclair, his eyes taking in the off rack suit the dark skinned agent wore, assessing the dark brown eyes that stared back at him. He blinked and swallowed. Damn, his head hurt. It was difficult to think past the pain, but he tried. "Where's Yorba Linda?" He finally asked.

Agent Sinclair smiled. "Yorba Linda is a suburb of Los Angeles. But as I understand it, you're going to be moved closer to L.A., Cedar-Sinai, I think, as soon as the docs here think you're stable enough to move."

Daniel started to nod but stopped. It hurt too much. "When did the Bureau find out where I was?"

"Early, early this morning. Orange County Sheriff's Office ran your prints when you were admitted as a John Doe last night. You pinged on the AFIS system and my team got the call at..." David looked at his watch. "3:30 this morning. I was sent over to sit with you and listen when you're ready to tell us what happened."

Daniel closed his eyes for a moment and then opened them. "Sorry you got dragged outta bed for me." He paused, and then added, "If I knew what had happened, I'd tell you." He swallowed again. Would his head ever stop pounding?

"It's okay. If it's meant to come, it will. I'm not going anywhere."

Daniel managed a very small nod and closed his eyes, fully intending to go back to sleep but his eyes popped open a moment later. "My boss! Does my boss know where I am?" He swung a panicked gaze at Agent Sinclair.

The other man nodded. "Yeah. My boss called your boss just as I was leaving."

Daniel relaxed back against the pillow. Abby knew he was alive. That thought prompted a groan.

"What's wrong?" David asked, looking for the call button.

"Abby, my boss, is gonna freak." Daniel replied.

"Bosses tend to do that when junior agents get in a crack." Agent Sinclair leaned in a little. "You up to talking a bit more?"'

Daniel wanted to shake his head 'no' but the pain was relentless. "My head's killin' me." he mumbled.

"I bet...you've got one hell of an ostrich egg there." Agent Sinclair picked up the call button and handed it to Daniel. "Hang on to that. You might need it again before you're transferred."

Daniel didn't reply. He just wrapped his fingers around the call button and closed his eyes, escaping into the blessed nothingness of sleep.

************

Abigail Stroud had been in law enforcement long enough to know when something just wasn't right. A friend of hers, who worked for the Nevada Gaming Commission, Enforcement Division, called the feeling 'jdfr' or 'just doesn't feel right'. Some might call it woman's intuition but for Abby, it was way more than just being a woman and at that exact moment, something _really_ just didn't feel right.

She looked at the clock on her desk and sighed. 7:21 a.m. She wasn't normally in the office at this early hour on a Saturday unless her and her team pulled the weekend shift but here she was, waiting. Waiting for a phone call. From one of her team members. A team member who had swore that the moment he could call, he would call. And that had been sometime yesterday afternoon. Yeah, 'jdfr' was the perfect to describe her feelings right then.

"You hear from Danny, yet?" George Stauton, Abby's youngest, newest member of her section of the Art Crime Team, appeared in the doorway of her closet-sized office.

"Nothing yet. Has Doug come in?"

"Nope."

"Okay, when he appears send him my way."

"Yes, ma'am." George withdrew and few moments later, she heard the sound of a keyboard in use.

She smiled. George was barely old enough to drink legally but what he lacked in age, he made up for computer smarts. There was very little George Stauton couldn't do with a computer and that was a very large asset in the world of stolen artifacts, paintings and historical objects.

She looked at the clock again. 7:28 a.m. Where the hell was he? Dead in a ditch somewhere? Mugged? Beaten? Unable to speak? She shook her head. _Jeez, Stroud, get carried away, why don't you?_

The phone rang at precisely 7:30 a.m. She jumped and the 'jdfr' feeling only increased. Somehow, she knew person on the other end of the line was not her tardy agent.

"Agent Stroud, Art Theft division."

"Agent Stroud, my name is Don Eppes, I'm a supervisory agent out in L.A." A male voice came across the line. "Do you have an Agent Daniel James Webster working in your division?"

"Yes." Abby felt her stomach sink into her toes. "What happened?"

"He was found along side a road in Yorba Linda, half dead from exposure with no identification on him. We found out about him when Orange County SO ran his prints."

"And?"

"He's been hospitalized. Was he out here on a case or something? Do you have someone, next of kin maybe, we can get in contact with? The hospital needs his medical records ASAP."

"Um." Abby's mouth went dry. _SHYTE! What the HELL happened? _"He was out there following a lead. His family...is it that bad?"

"Agent Stroud, I'm not going to lie, we don't know his full condition yet. Having his records out here would really help."

"Shit..." Abby was unaware she had cursed until she heard the words come out of her mouth. "I'll have them sent immediately." Of course, that meant she had to find out where Danny's records were.

"If you could fax them directly to my department, I'll have one of my fellow agents run them over to Cedar-Sinai when he's moved."

"Sure, your number?"

She scribbled down the number. "It's on its way. Thank you for calling. You'll be seeing me soon." She hung up before he could say anything. She stared at the phone for a long time, willing the fear and worry Agent Eppes' phone call had produced to go away. _You cannot panic now Stroud. Panic later._ "George!" She hollered.

He appeared in the doorway in an instant. "Yeah?"

"Listen carefully because I don't have the time to say this twice. Danny's been found hurt in LA. What I need from you are his medical records and the first flight possible out to L.A., got that?"

George nodded. "How bad is it?"

She glared. "I don't know. Now go."

He hoofed it back to his desk and went straight to work. A few minutes later, he reappeared in the doorway, a memory stick in his hand. "Here ya go."

She took it from him, saying, "Don't go anywhere. When Doug gets here, don't let him go anywhere either. Have you gotten those tickets?"

"Tickets? More than one?" George asked.

"Yes. More than one. We're all going." Abby replied.

"Okay. I'm on it."

She nodded and headed to the elevator to deliver the info to Crypto for sending. Doug Miller, the fourth member of the team, stepped off the elevator just as she got on. She repeated what she had told George to tell him. He nodded and she was gone. Doug, a slightly more hefty, slightly older version of Mr. Clean, except he had hair and a mustache, made his way to his desk, looking for George. Maybe he could tell him what was going on.

George saw him first. "You see Abby?"

Doug nodded. "What's going on?"

George related what he had seen and heard, ending with the command to find plane tickets for all of them.

"Just how bad is he hurt?" Doug asked.

"I don't know but I heard Abby cussing." George replied.

Doug closed his eyes. "Crap." He muttered. He opened his eyes and looked at George. "She wouldn't cuss unless it was bad."

The two men ran out of words about then and were reduced to looking at each other until Abby came back a few minutes later.

"George?" Abby asked when she came back into the office. "Did you get us tickets?"

He nodded. "But the first flight I could get doesn't leave until 11:45 a.m. There's a flight that leaves at 9:15 but there's no way we can make that."

Abby actually thought about attempting to make that flight, traffic laws be damned but conceded that George had a point. "All right. Both of you go home get your stuff and meet me at National ASAP. We'll try and go standby, see if we can't get out earlier."

George gave Abby the confirmation numbers for the flight and left. Doug, however, did not leave. He waited until the elevator doors had shut on George before speaking.

"What the hell happened?"

She glared at Doug, and blew an exasperated sigh out. "Danny turned up, injured. In California."

Doug swore. "What was he doing out there?"

"He didn't tell you anything?"

"All I got was this excited voice mail saying he had this great lead and he'd get me the details later."

"Great. Doug … Danny went chasing the lead all right, and it took him to Southern California and, somehow, beaten to within an inch of his life."

More swearing from Doug. Nothing fancy, just a few old favorites. "How many times have I told him NOT to go off half-cocked like this?" He said, more to himself than anything. "How is he?" He asked Abby.

She shrugged. "One of the Supervisory Special Agents at the LA Field office sent one of his team members to sit on Danny. Other than a few, rather sketchy' details, Agent Eppes didn't know much."

"Crap." Doug paced the short space between his and Danny's desks. "Crap, crap, crap. It's a damn shame we can't get one of the Bureau's jets to run us out there."

"Ha! Like the prima donnas in BAU would let us pry one out of their hands." She walked over and lightly tapped him on the shoulder. "Now, buck up, go home and pack for at least three days in Sunny So Cal, maybe more. We've got a team mate to haul back here."

He saluted. "Yes, ma'am! Should I drop by Danny's place and get some of his things? Wait...I think he left a bag of stuff at my house anyway. I'll see you at National." He turned to leave but turned right back around and touched Abby on the arm. "Abby?"

"Yeah, Doug?"

He looked at her. "He'll be fine, don't you worry about that. And this is not your fault, don't be blaming yourself for it either."

She looked up at him and smirked. "I'll remind you of that when you have a team of your own and one of yours goes tearing off after a lead and ends up like Daniel. Now, go pack. I've got to let our boss know where we're going, then I need to grab my crap and get out to National too."

He saluted her again. "As if I would ever be as qualified as you to run a team." He winked and was out the door before she could reply.


	3. Chapter 3

**Act Two**

It was easy to pick out Agent Stroud and her team from the passengers that deplaned Flight 1824 from Washington, D.C. Well, it was easy for Megan, a civilian would have just seen row and after row of tired, grumpy people but as a LEO, she was able to pick out the subtle signs that set LEOs apart from ordinary folk. That, and she had a description she'd gotten from Don, a woman and two men, Caucasian, two dark haired, one blond, dressed in business casual clothes. Sure enough, in the last group of passengers, there they were and they looked like they had already been through a wringer. She waited a moment to let the other passengers disperse before approaching the dark haired woman.

"Agent Stroud? I'm Agent Megan Reeves, I'm on Agent Eppes' team." She said.

Cool green eyes met Megan's hazel ones before a tired smile crossed Agent Stroud's face. "Abigail Stroud." She said, holding out her hand.

They shook hands, and then Agent Stroud made the introductions. She pointed at the dark haired, Mr. Clean look alike on her right. "Agent Doug Miller." She then pointed at the young blond man on her left. "Agent George Staunton."

"Call me Megan." She told all three as handshakes were exchanged all around. "I hope your trip wasn't that bad." She looked out the terminal window at the steady downpour. "Believe it or not, it doesn't do this very often. Follow me and we'll get out of here as soon as we can."

Thirty minutes with luggage in hand and, on a first name basis, the four agents arrived at Megan's Bureau issued sedan. Doug loaded all the luggage in the trunk, then joined George in the back seat while Abby sat up front with Megan. The mood in the car, tense, to put it mildly.

"It'll take about a half an hour, maybe longer, depending on the traffic to get to the Federal Building." Megan said, putting the car in gear and pulling out of the parking space. "However, because of the rain, there may not be that much traffic to begin with."

Silence greeted her words. No one was in a mood to talk. Not that she could blame them. She knew exactly what they were going through. She'd been through the exact same hell last year after Colby had been pulled off the Chinese freighter. Just thinking about it made her stomach clench. She firmly put the thought from mind and focused getting out of the airport.

"Agent…Megan, have you seen Danny?" Doug asked, after they had left the airport.

"No, I haven't." She replied, pulling onto I-105. "But another member of our team, David Sinclair has been with him since he was identified." She tried to get a look at Doug in the rear view mirror but couldn't see much because of the lack of sun.

The slap of windshield wipers and the patter of rain on the car replaced conversation for a time. It wasn't until Megan had taken an on-ramp to I-405 North that another question was asked.

"Where was he found?" It was Abby this time.

"Yorba Linda." Megan replied. "It's a suburb of L.A. It's about a half-hour from downtown."

"President Nixon is from Yorba Linda." George said. "His presidential library is there."

"That's right. It's quite the tourist attraction." Megan said.

"Where did _that_ come from?" Doug asked him.

"I don't know." George said. "It just came to me."

Megan would have responded but the rain increased to the point where she had to concentrate on the road, forestalling any more questions until later.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Thirty rain soaked minutes later, the Federal Building loomed up out of the gloom. Fifteen minutes after that, the four agents were stepping off the elevator at the 14th Floor – Major Crime Division. There were only a handful of agents on the floor, owing mainly to the fact that it was a Saturday afternoon. In no time, Megan had introduced Don to Abby and her team and they got down to business.

"I'll keep this short," Don from his position at the head of the conference table in the 'war room', "because I know you all want to get over to the hospital. Agent Webster was found here, in Yorba Linda, on the side of Rio Road, near Black Gold Golf Club at around 9:30 last night." He pointed at a circled section of a large road map behind him. "He was admitted to Placentia Linda Hospital as a John Doe until his prints ided him. LAX is here." He again pointed at the map. "Somewhere in between is the answer to what happened to him."

"Is that all you've got?" Doug asked, his irritation showing through.

Don eyed Doug but nodded anyway. "That's where all of you come in. What was he doing out here? I checked the visiting agents' log from yesterday and his name wasn't in it." He perched on the edge of the conference table. "Now, we all know that all that means is that he just didn't get a chance _to_ check in. Which brings us back to the original question. What was he doing here?" He looked at Abby.

She returned his gaze unflinchingly. "Danny was following a lead. He called me late last night and told me what he was planning. I gave him the go ahead."

Don frowned. "You let one of your agents go cross-country on a hunch without backup?"

Doug opened his mouth to speak but Abby put a hand on his arm, silencing him before he started. "Agent Eppes, Don, investigations are conducted a bit differently in the Art Theft Division. Not radically different mind you but enough. Art is portable and, as such, the leads we receive come from, literally, all over the world. It's nothing for an Art Theft agent to do exactly what Danny did. Getting rolled however, is quite another matter." She blinked and stifled a yawn. "Excuse me, I did not sleep well last night." She looked at Don and Megan. "And considering the time I got your phone call this morning, neither did either one of you. Thank you, in advance for doing whatever you can do to catch this asshole."

"Ridiculous." Doug muttered. "Spend half the day flying across the country and they don't have anything more than when we left D.C."

Abby's grip increased on his arm and he did not say anything further.

Don gave Doug another _look_ but that was all.

"So, he was coming to meet someone out here." Megan said, standing and joining Don. "Did he ever say who?"

"Right here." Doug pulled a piece of paper from his jacket pocket and read from it. "E. Pareham. When I see Danny, I'll ask him."

Abby openly stared at Doug who returned the look. "Didn't you wonder why I almost missed the flight?" He asked her. "I went back to the office and made a rubbing of the note pad Danny was using."

"He came out here, following a lead and was going to talk to someone named E. Pareham and somehow got mugged and dumped on the side of the road in Yorba Linda." Don said, more to himself. "It's a start." He looked at the assembled group. "Megan's going to run all of you over to Cedars-Sinai so you can see…." It took him a moment too long to come up with the right name.

"His name's Danny." Doug grumped.

Don quirked an eyebrow. "I know that, Agent Miller." His voice was calm and quiet but it held a tone that brooked no argument. "Is there anything else you'd like to say? Get everything out in the open, so we don't have to go through this again?"

Doug looked at Don and shook his head. "Not at the moment."

"Agent Miller, I appreciate, more than you probably can guess, what you're going through, but if you can't separate your emotions from this case..." Don let the idea just hang there, unspoken, in the air of the conference room.

"Agent Eppes.... Don..." Abby said, "You do not have to worry about that. Doug is a professional."

A red flush swept across Doug's face. "Sorry, Agent Eppes." Doug apologized, actually looking as contrite as he sounded. "It's just ... Danny, even George here, are ... well ... family."

Don almost smiled. "I understand, really I do but it happens again...we won't be able to put his happy ass in jail if you screw things up."

Doug's smile turned cold. "Oh, trust me, Eppes. This is one case I'm going to ENJOY following the book to the letter to put the screws to the assholes that did this to Danny."

Don snorted. "That I don't doubt. Now, as I was saying Megan will take you over to the hospital and when you get back, we'll work on the plan of action then. My other agent, David Sinclair, is there with him. So, he's not alone."

Nods from the three visiting agents.

"I appreciate the chauffeur service, Don." Abby said. "But at some point, we're going to have to get a car out of the motor pool. Why don't we just do that now?"

"I absolutely agree that you'll need a car but right now, you're in a strange city, you're under a lot of stress and" He gave her half a grin. "as you said so yourself, you didn't get a whole lot of sleep last night. Trust me when I say you're in no shape to deal with L.A. traffic, even if it is a weekend. Once you're done at the hospital, come back and pick up a car then, okay?"

She paused a moment but shook her head.

"I'll have a list of places for you to stay at when you get back too." He said.

Abby stood, smiled for the first time all day and held out her hand. "Thank you."

He took it. "You're welcome."

"Come on, guys, almost there." Abby said, to Doug and George. They stood and everyone followed Megan from the room, leaving Don to contemplate the new information he'd just received.

~*~*~*~*~

Abby stood in the hallway just outside Danny's room at Cedars-Sinai Hospital and listened to the attending doctor detail his injuries, her stomach tying itself into a knot all the while. She cast a glance into his room; except for the goose egg on his left temple, he didn't look too bad. David Sinclair, the other member of Don's team had been waiting in the room.

He had introduced himself, then left. He seemed nice enough, insisting that she call him David.

She pulled her attention back to the doctor, an older man with graying hair and kind eyes and the unlikely name of Thomas Etminan. "When will he be able to travel?" she asked.

"It all depends on how quickly his injuries start to heal. But I would say a week to ten days. He's going to have quite a bit of physical therapy in front of him. A cracked patella is nothing to mess with."

Abby nodded. She had had George and Doug stay back in the waiting area and spoken to the doctor alone. If there was 'bad' news, she wanted to break it to them. She ran a hand through her hair, squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. She opened her eyes and said, "I can't believe this. I just can't."

"Abby?" Danny's groggy voice reached her ears before Dr. Etminan could reply.

She turned, looked into the room and, seeing him awake, left the doctor standing there in the hallway. She pasted a smile on and approached the bed. The closer she got, the more she amended her previous thought. He looked absolutely awful. His normal healthy complexion was now a pale shadow. He looked weak and frightened. There were tubes sticking out of him that shouldn't have been and machines that shouldn't have been there. No, Danny shouldn't have been there. The worry in her gut coalesced and turned to anger. If it was the last thing she did, she would find the _insert favorite profanity_ who had done this and make them pay.

His eyes roamed across her face as if he was trying to convince himself that she was really there, a look of confusion clouding his normally sharp gaze.

"Hi, there." She said, putting a gentle hand on his arm.

"You came out." He replied, trying to sit up but was not successful. He hissed in pain, bringing Dr. Etminan in from the hallway.

"Of course, I came out." She gently chided him. "Doug and George came too."

He swallowed and blinked. "But...but...I'm not...I mean, I don't have...I haven't talked to my CI yet." Fear and confusion flickered through his eyes. "I don't have anything to report on."

She gave him the biggest smile she could manage. "It's okay. You'll have plenty to report. You've never let me down."

He blinked. "So, you're not going to yell?"

She laughed. She honestly laughed. "No, I'm not. That's what I've got George for."

That got her a smile and a laugh. Well, the beginnings of a laugh before Danny's face crumpled in pain as his bruised ribs protested the movement.

"Sorry...it hurts when I laugh." He managed.

Abby nodded. "I have to remember not to say anything funny."

"Agent Webster," Dr. Etminan said, "are you in much pain or is it manageable?"

Danny looked at Abby for a long moment and started to answer but she interrupted.

"I'm going to go and update the others. I'll be back later. You get some rest." She looked at the doctor. "Thank you for talking with me." She left before either could say anything.

A few moments later, just as she thought, a nurse passed her in the hallway carrying a syringe. She watched the nurse go into Danny's room, then turned and walked back to the waiting area.

~*~*~*~*~

Abby had warned them what Danny looked like but the description was no match for the reality. Doug swore quietly under his breath and George, George turned a shade of pale that no man should. He got no further than the foot of Danny's bed before turning around and walking out.

Doug watched and shook his head. This whole mess had seriously rattled the young agent. He hadn't expected to come face to face with such ugliness while in the Art Theft division, a thoroughly naive notion to be sure but still…

The nurse had warned Doug that Danny wouldn't be awake for much longer because of the pain shot but that he was still lucid for the moment.

"Doug?" Danny asked. "You really did come. Abby wasn't jokin'."

"Yeah, Danny-Boy, I came... like I was going to stay home when my favorite teammate is hurting. Do you want Claire to have my guts for garters?"

That got Doug a smile. "Aw.... Claire's a pussycat."

Doug let out a laugh. "Boy, has she got you snookered!"

"She makes the best pies, you know that?" Danny's gaze wavered a bit as the pain shot took a deeper hold on him.

"I do believe I've tasted one, or two, in our many years of marriage..." Doug replied.

"You think she'd make me a pie?" His voice was almost wistful.

"She sure will ... what do you want?" Doug asked even as he settled into the chair beside the bed, determined to sit with his friend until someone dared to kick him out.

"Pumpkin. She makes th' bes' pun'kin pie." His words started to slur a bit.

"I'll let her know when I call her this evening to let her know how you're doing. Get some rest, Danny Boy."

"Kay." Danny's eyelids fluttered shut but shot open a moment later. "Doug?!"

"What?"

"You're not gonna leave, are ya?" Fear radiated through his words.

"Not unless you want me to?"

"You can't leave..." Danny told him.

Doug reached out, took up Danny's hand in his own and squeezed. "Danny, I'm not leaving. Rest. I've got your back, okay?"

"Okay." Danny said, squeezing Doug's hand in return. His eyelids slid shut and his grip slackened as sleep took hold.

"Doug?" George said from the hallway.

He looked up, "Yeah, George?"

George poked his head in the room. "I'm going back to the waiting area."

"Okay ... let Abby know I'm staying with Danny for a bit longer but don't leave. All right?"

"Gotcha." George said and disappeared from view.

Doug didn't release Danny's hand as he settled back in the chair, doing his best to get comfortable in the uncomfortable device. "See, Danny? Told ya, I've got your back. And you ain't shaking me until we get back home to DC."

****************

Abby slowly walked down the hallway, back to the lounge and her team, her head spinning with everything she had heard and learned in the last six hours. Danny would be fine. She knew that now but she'd be damned if she knew why he had been beaten in the first place.

She swallowed, fear and worry giving way to anger. She would find out who had done this to _her _agent. She would find them and they would pay. Of that she was certain.

She reached the lounge and waved Doug and George back down the way she'd come. Doug paused at the hallway entrance, looking at her, like he wanted to say something but didn't. He just followed George out of the room. The two agents from Agent Eppes team were in the lounge as well. Agent Reeves, Megan and the man who had sat with Danny until she had come.

She sank into the nearest chair, trying to remember his name. It started with an 'S'. Sim...Sint...Sin...Sinclair. Now, the first name. Douglas, Davis, Donald, David! His name was David Sinclair. She looked up, met his eyes, kind eyes, and stood, crossing the space between them. She held out her hand to him saying "Thank you again, Agent Sinclair, for doing what I couldn't."

A ready smile blossomed on his face. He took her hand in his, his grip firm. "You're welcome. And please, call me David."

She nodded. "All right. Call me Abby."

David nodded in return. "Would you like to know what Danny asked me when he first woke up and saw me?"

"What?" She was truly curious.

"'Has my boss been told?' When I told him you had, he added 'Man, Abby's gonna freak.'" David smiled again, putting a hand on her shoulder. "He's a scrapper. I barely know him but I know that. He'll be all right. You have to know that."

She nodded. Suddenly, it was all too much. David's kindness was the last straw. She felt tears prick her eyelids and she blinked furiously. She missed the look Megan gave David, barely registering him asking if she would like anything to drink? She shook her head and sat down again, determined not to have a total breakdown in front of strangers.

She'd hold it together until she reached her hotel room. Then and only then, would she allow herself to cry.

When Doug walked back into the lounge, everyone looked at him. He gave everyone an easy smile, went over to Abby, pulled her to her feet and wrapped her in a hug. He didn't care who was there or if someone happened to think that his hugging his boss was 'inappropriate'. She didn't fight him. In fact, she just about melted against him.

Her shoulders started to shake and, silently, the tears started to flow. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Megan shoo the other agent out of the room, following him.

"He'll be okay." Doug said into her hair. "He'll be fine."

"Why?" Abby's voice came out as a harsh rasp. "Why? Why him? We're in the fucking Art Theft section..."

"Hey, you know better than me how violent the art world can be." Doug said.

"That's different, Doug. That thief against thief. Why Danny?"

"That, Abigail, is why we're here." He tipped her chin up and looked at her. "Doing better now?"

She nodded.

She stepped out of his arms and swiped at her face. "Let's go." She looked around the room. "Did I scare them away?"

Doug snorted. "George, go find Megan and tell her we're ready to leave."

George nodded and left. A few moments later, Megan and David came back in, without saying a word, Megan led them all out to the car.

Just before Abby got in, Megan touched her on the arm then tugged on her own ear in a signal that - should she need it - Reeves as offering an ear to bend. Abby looked at her for a long moment, then nodded in response to the unspoken invitation.

She slid into the car, next to Doug, who put his arm around her, squeezing her shoulder before releasing her. It was good to have team members, friends she could lean on.

****************

The team who came back from the hospital was different from the ones Don had seen a few hours earlier. They had gone from anxious to deflated. He knew, more than most, how gut wrenching it was to have one of _your_ people hurt. It was a feeling of helplessness beyond any other. He opened the door to the 'war room' for Abby and the others, following behind them. When everyone was seated, including his team, Don sat down next to Abby.

"How's he doing?" He asked her.

Abby's eyes were guarded as they searched his face. "The doctor says he'll be fine." Her lips set in a thin line. "I am not," she looked at Doug and George "_we_ are not leaving until we find the bastards responsible."

Don almost smiled. He liked Abby Stroud. She reminded him of himself. "I wouldn't expect anything else." He cast a look over his shoulder at the white board behind him. "With your permission of course, I've combined our teams and split them into three separate groups." He looked around the room at everyone, then back at Abby. "I'm a man shy at the moment but he'll be back on Monday. So, we'll have full strength then."

Abby nodded. "What's the plan until then? I hope you're not suggestions that we wait until Monday, that'd be wasting a day and a half."

An eyebrow quirked upward on Don's face. "No, that's not at all what I'm suggesting. The plan is for all of you to go to your hotel and get some rest and come back here tomorrow morning. You're all exhausted and you and I both know, quite well I would think, that it's damn hard to think straight when you're that tired."

Abby nodded, then started to open her mouth but Don interrupted her. "Ask around and you'll discover that I'm the King of Stubborn, the master of working himself into the ground. If _I'm_ suggesting you need to get some rest, you do."

She looked at him for a long time before finally, slowly, nodding.

He handed her a sheet of paper. "This is the hotel you'll be staying at." He looked up at Megan. "Run them over there and then come back here." He looked back at Abby. "In the morning, the first stop will be the motor pool, okay?"

She nodded again. "Thanks."

"You're welcome. I'll see you bright and early, 8 a.m." Don told her, standing. He watched Megan lead Abby's team out, then looked over at David. "I hope you didn't have any plans for this evening."

David shook his head.

"Good, because we have a lot to cover before 8 a.m. tomorrow."


	4. Chapter 4

**Act Three**

The next morning, in what would become a regular occurrence, Don held a brief meeting. He laid out the assignments, answered the questions that came up the best he could, then sent everyone on their way. He was done in less than ten minutes. The 'groups' Don had created out of the two teams were: Abby and Don, David and Doug and Megan and George.

When Colby returned on Monday, he would be in charge of looking at all of the video footage that had been collected. Video footage that Abby and Don would collect from the LAX Police and the TSA. Meanwhile, Megan and George would speak with the two girls who had found Danny. David and Doug, using information garnered from Danny, would scour the area Danny was supposed to have met his C.I. (confidential informant) on the night he was beaten. Finally, everyone would meet back at the 'war room' at the end of the day and report. Hopefully, hidden within all that information would be the answer to who had beaten Danny and, if they were very lucky, why.

*************

The ride out to LAX was as quiet as the ride in the day before had been. Don left Abby to her thoughts, concentrating on the road in front of him. Abby stared out the car window not really seeing the scenery. For the second night in a row, she had barely slept, maybe four hours. Then, after the meeting with Don and his team, she and Don, had gone by the hospital to see Danny, making her sprits dropping even further. He looked.... well...he looked terrible. He was restless, tossing and turning in the bed. He wasn't quite awake but he wasn't quite asleep either. He did wake fully when she came in, trying to put on a brave face, not that it did a bit of good.

_~#~#~#~#~#~_

"When can I go back to D.C.?" He asked.

Abby looked at Daniel, not quite believing that he'd had the balls to ask THAT question - again. "Danny, you'll be able to go home when the Doctors SAY you can. No sooner."

"But..."

"No. Your job at this moment is to get well enough to really start pestering the nurses. Got that?"

He scowled.

"Keep that up, Mister, and I'll make sure the Battle Axes are assigned to take care of you instead of the cuties." *EG*

"I'd do better back in D.C." He muttered.

Abby smiled in sympathy. "Of course you would. Except--" She paused until his gaze met hers again. "Do you really think Claire would leave you alone while you were in the hospital?"

He smiled a wistful smile. "I wish Claire was here."

"Yeah, well, I bet Doug wishes the same thing." Abby leaned forward and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, one of the few spots that wasn't bruised on Daniel's body. "In the meantime, relax, get well and stop being a pain in the nurses' butts. Got that?"

"Yes, ma'am." He yawned. "Can you get me something to read?"

"Sure ... you want the new Cussler novel that just came out?"

"Jim Butcher."

"I'll see what I can do. Sleep well, Danny." She had waited for a few minutes making sure Danny had really fallen asleep and wasn't playing 'possum, before leaving.

_~#~#~#~#~_

Danny's beseeching helpless stare wouldn't leave her. She shook her head. She had to find out what happened, if for no other reason than peace of mind for herself, Danny and everyone else on her team.

"You ever have a team member hurt this bad before?" Don asked, taking the LAX exit off the 101 freeway.

She shook her head, hoping Don wasn't implying that, somehow, she was less of an agent because she reacted the way she did.

But he said nothing further, simply nodding his head, guiding the SUV down an access road that led to a group of building containing a side of the airport never seen by passengers. He pulled the SUV into a parking spot in front of the building closest to the access road. He turned off the engine and looked at Abby.

"You've got to keep one thing in mind through all of this." He said.

She gave him a look. "And that would be?"

"This too shall pass." He said, climbing out of the SUV without another word.

The first building they walked into was the headquarters for the LAX Police Department. They stopped at a reception desk and identified themselves, Don asking to speak to the Chief. A few moments later, a youngish blond woman came through a door set off to one side. "Agents, if you could follow me please?" she said.

They did, following her down a brightly lit but narrow, Spartan hallway, crossing into a small outer office with a closed door at the end. As they waited, the woman crossed the room, knocked on the door and went in. She returned shortly and ushered them into another office, closing the door after them. The office they stood in, wasn't much bigger than the one they had just left...and it was crammed to near bursting with binders, stacks of papers, pictures and a little bit of everything else. A desk, pushed back against the far wall, two chairs and a U.S. flag in a floor stand, completed the look.

'Cramped claustrophobia' Abby thought, vowing to never complain about the size of her own tiny office in D.C. ever again. The skinniest man Abby had ever seen stood up behind the desk and held out his hand.

"Chief Jerald Nelson." He said, motioning to the seats in front of the desk. "Please have a seat."

After introductions were made and both Don and Abby were seated, it struck Abby that Chief Nelson looked just like a scarecrow, right down to the mop of unruly, thinning, blonde hair. This image struck her, as funny and she had to work to contain her mirth.

"Thank you for agreeing to see us on such short notice." Don said.

Chief Nelson shrugged his shoulders. "Agent Eppes, I learned a long time ago to cooperate with the Feds. The sooner they get what they want, the sooner they get out of my hair."

Don almost laughed. "My job, our jobs" He motioned at Abby. "would be far easier if more people thought that way."

Chief Nelson nodded. "Now, what does the F.B.I. want this time?"

"An out of town agent was beaten and left on the side of the road this past Friday, late, late Friday night. He arrived at LAX early Friday evening. We need any, and all, footage from Friday evening." Don told him.

"All right. I hope you've got some flight info or you're going to be looking at a lot of video footage for a long, long time."

"Delta Flight 1632, departing Washington National at 5:35 PM, landing at LAX 7:42 PM EST." Abby said, reading off a sheet of paper in front of her.

Another nod from the Chief. "Let me check one thing before I get the footage. It has done nothing but rain since Thursday. This is the first clear day we've had since then. Just about every flight was delayed." He stood and walked from the room.

"So, what's this I hear about sunny Los Angeles?" Abby asked Don, only half kidding.

He shrugged. "What about the cherry blossoms staying on the trees long enough for the Cherry Blossom Festival?"

"They actually did this year. First time in years they hadn't blown off before hand."

"All right." Chief Nelson returned. "Just like I thought. Your agent's flight was delayed two hours. It didn't land until close to 10 PM." He settled back into his chair. "The video is going to be a bit delayed getting here but it'll be here by three. Just come back and say I've got video waiting for you. Bureaucracy gotta love it." He looked at both Abby and Don. "Anything else I can do for you?"

"Just point us toward the TSA." Don said.

"Two buildings over on the right. Oh, and be warned, Agent Hammond is very impressed with himself." Chief Nelson said.

"One of those?" Abby asked, just not in the mood to deal with a stuffed shirt at that moment.

Chief Nelson nodded. "He can be, no, he usually is, a right pain in the ass."

"Thanks for the warning." Don said, standing. He held out his hand. "Thanks not being one."

Chief Nelson snorted and stood as well. "You're welcome. I'm a realist. Agent Hammond isn't."

************

As Chief Nelson was helpful, TSA Agent Hammond was not. To begin with, he left them cooling their heels in the outer office for close to 20 minutes. Once they were 'admitted', he did not stand up when they came in and did not offer them a seat. He was quite impressed with himself and it showed.

While Don attempted to explain to Agent Hammond why he needed the video of that past Friday, Abby was left to her own devices. She stood there, wondering just how long Don's patience would last when someone called her name, making her turn toward the door they had just come through. Standing there was a young man about George's age and looks holding four DVD's. He motioned her to come over to him. Intrigued, she did.

"Agent Stroud, here." He handed her the DVD's.

Abby looked down at the proffered items than back up at the young man, distrust on her face.

He shot a quick glance over her shoulder at Hammond who was still engrossed in telling Don why he just couldn't make a copy of the video without the proper forms. It didn't really matter anyway because Don blocked the man's view of the doorway where he stood.

"My name is Thomas Geigle. I'm one of the techs here at TSA. I heard what your partner asked for and here they are. Just don't tell Hammond."

Abby took the DVD's and stuffed them in her purse. "Thank you."

Geigle smiled. "You're welcome. I wish I could say that this was just a bad day for Hammond and that he's really nice guy but I'd be lying." He left her standing in the doorway before she could respond.

She turned back around and went over to Don, touching him on the elbow. "Let's go, Eppes. This jerk wouldn't give the time of day to his mother unless he had a pre-approved request form signed in triplicate."

He nodded. "So much for cooperation between agencies."

She smiled - sourly. "Just think of how much fun you and I are going to have reporting his lovely attitude up the chain of our command and what will happen when it comes rolling back down his." She tugged on Don's arm and, barely, managed not to laugh out loud until they were well out of ear shot, electronic and organic, of the TSA office.

He sighed. "Sorry about that. Just when I think..."

"It's all right. I don't want to bring them out, but I got what we needed off Agent Geigle."

Don's eyebrows went up. "You did? Agent who?"

She nodded. "Yeap. Agent Thomas Geigle."

"Hmm...wonder if I could entice him away from the TSA's clutches? We're always looking for friendly, innovative and eager-to-please techies...." Don's look was down right _devious_.

Abby grinned. "What makes you think I've haven't thought the same thing? We can always use a few more techs back in D.C."

Don glanced at her, a smirk on his face. "You're kidding right? He's a California nerd ... hell, he's probably a graduate of CalSci ... he's not going to want to trade in California sunshine for Washington DC snow and Beltway politics."

Her smile brightened. "You just have no idea what we can offer back there. Namely all those college interns who would just LOVE to meet a guy from California.

"Right ... how about we each pitch our best offers once we've cleared our case and see who's tasty plate he bites?"

"Sure." She said. "Now, didn't the LAX PD Chief say he'd have their stuff ready for us by now?"

Don nodded. "Yeah, I think he did."

"Good." They walked along the concourse between the two hangers housing LAXPD and the Transportation Security Agency in silence ... until something occurred to Abby. "Eppes, do you have audio-visual techs on weekend duty or are you going to have to call someone in to go over this? I hate to admit this but I'm death to DVD and VCR players."

Don smiled. "My missing agent. He's the master of scanning lots of video. He'll be back in town tonight and I'll give him a call."

"You sure he won't mind ... I mean, technically, he's off until he come in at whatever his usual time is on Monday--"

Don's grin widened. "Trust me, he won't complain."

She looked over in time to see the wicked-looking grin on Eppes' face. "Oh? You got something on your agent to keep him from bitching?"

"Yes, I do."

"Okay." They stopped by the LAXPD front office, where Chief Nelson had left a rather large envelope that, when Abby peered inside, held no less than 16 DVDs in slim jewel cases. "You'd better have a LOT of material to keep your agent from bitchin' when he sees this...." She showed him the contents, which caused Don to whistle in appreciation.

"What I've got is better than anything else out there, I've got his mother's home number."

The unexpectedness of Don Eppes' answer struck Abby sideways and she started to giggle. Which rapidly turned into a laugh before she managed, barely, to get herself back under control. "That's almost as bad as me having Doug's wife's cell phone on speed-dial."

"Whatever works, right?"

She sighed and nodded. "Oh absolutely." They made it back to where he'd parked his SUV and, after popping the doors and holding them open to air out the heat boiling out of the interior, they climbed back in, waiting for the GMC's air conditioner to take hold. "Where to now?" she asked.

"Danny rented his car from AVIS, right?" Don waited until she confirmed that, "You know what kind?"

She nodded. "A red Chevy Malibu."

A nod from Don. "Doug and David were supposed to talk to him and find out where he was going to meet his C.I. Let's see if they didn't come up with something?"

She nodded in return, reaching for her cell, just as Don reached for his. They looked at each other and shared a laugh, then Don put away his cell. "Your agent, your call."

She gave him a brief smile then dialed Doug. A few minutes later she hung up and said, "Danny remembers going down I-5 towards Disney Land and he remembers pulling into a place with lots of trees. David thinks it's the…."

"Fullerton Arboretum." Don interrupted her. He put the SUV in gear and pulled out of the parking area, heading toward the airport exit.

"Do you think the car he rented is still in one piece?" Abby asked, after he reached the exit.

He shrugged. "That all depends on where he left it and how good the uniformed patrol is in that area. Best guess? We've got a 50/50 chance of finding it intact."

"I guess he can kiss the deposit good bye." She said.

"Probably. However, maybe the Bureau will agree to reimburse him if he really was out here on a case."

Her frown deepened. "_If_ he was out here on a case?"

"You and I both know that knowing he was out here chasing down a lead and _proving_ that to the upper management is two vastly different things." He pulled out onto the feeder road and headed for I-5.

She nodded. "Sorry, I don't mean to snap."

"No problem. Been there, done that ... drove my family and my team to distraction with my snippiness."

"You? Snippy? I'm shocked, just shocked." Abby said, a grin on her face.

"Oh, yeah ... Mister Charming and Persuasive was Mister Get The HELL Out Of My Way for about ... five weeks."

Her brow wrinkled in thought, then she stopped and looked at him. "That was your team wasn't it?"

"My team what?" Don gave her his most innocent look.

But the innocent look was not selling it.

"Your team that stopped a Chinese freighter and nearly started an international incident or, as one of my instructors would say, a international clusterfuck." She stared at him. She had watched on TV like everybody else had, open-mouthed as the events unfolded. That she was now seated next to the guy who started it all was more than a bit of surprise.

"We had help ... and it was one of my team who they nearly killed. International clusterfuck.... yeah, I guess we did kick that off - but only after the mole had decided to torture an FBI agent."

Her eyes popped open. "Oh My God, I knew it was bad but not that bad. How is he?"

Don smiled. "You'll see for yourself either later today or first thing in the morning. Colby's still a part of my team and a whiz at piecing things together from various video sources."

She smiled. "I'm glad to hear he's okay. I'll shut up now."

"Hey, at least Webster didn't actually flatline ... Granger did and he's okay. Danny will be too. Keep reminding yourself of that."

Abby's eyes widened even more. "He did? My God." She shook her head. "About Danny, you said he was brought in without his id or weapon?"

Don merely nodded again, keeping his eye on the "Sunday drivers" who had crawled out of the woodwork once he hit the I-5 corridor.

"Any suggestions on how to even begin to find the id and/or the weapon?"

"You know his badge number and serial on the weapon?"

"I can get it. I don't know it off hand."

"Once we have that, we can enter them as lost/stolen in NCIC and put a notice out to the South Western GLAW area. Other than that . . . we may never find them."

She nodded and squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, a tension headache starting to build up in back of her head.

"Check the glove compartment."

Mystified, she looked at Don, then opened the glove box.

"You normally read minds, Don?" She asked, her fingers closing around the bottle of Tylenol.

"No ... but I recognize the signs of a tension headache. Besides, I know how many painful headaches I had each time one of my team has been hurt."

"It doesn't get any easier, does it?" She asked, looking around for something to take the Tylenol with.

Don lifted up the center console to expose a custom-built cooler with four bottles of water inside. "Nope. Help yourself."

She smiled and took a bottle of water. "You'll make someone the perfect husband, you know that?"

"So my father keeps hoping."

She unscrewed the lid on the bottle of water and chugged the Tylenol and the water, then put the water back.

She studied Don for a long moment. "If I'm getting too personal feel free to tell me but I'm surprised someone hasn't already snapped you up."

Don shook his head and didn't answer right away." There have been a few near misses . . .each one either left me or I left them - for whatever reason - and I just haven't been in a hurry to share what I see on a daily basis with someone who probably couldn't handle it."

She nodded. "It's not exactly dinner conversation is it?"

"Nope."

"How long have you been in the Bureau?" she asked.

"Fourteen ... no, fifteen years now. Joined up after college. You?"

"Not quite 12. I joined a couple years after college. How did your parents handle it?"

"Dad was, admittedly, a little disappointed ... but both he and Mom were supportive. Even when I was in Fugitive Recovery, even though they ~hated~ that part of my career."

"You were in Fugitive Recovery? How'd you get from there to here?"

"Honestly?"

"Yeah. If you don't mind that is."

"My mom got sick and I needed a steady base as close to home as possible - which is how I ended up as a SAC at Albuquerque."

"And from there you wound up in L.A.? That must have been some trip."

"Most agents would see it as a demotion, I saw it as an opportunity to get back in the field without the wear and tear of Rabbit hunting." He spotted the exit that would lead to the Fullerton Arboretum and pulled off I-5.

"I bet you've got stories..." She didn't finish her sentence. She looked around at the area. "This is the arboretum?"

He nodded and pulled into the parking area, scanning the area for a red Malibu, ending the conversation for the moment.

****************

"Hey, Danny Boy…you decent?" Doug knocked on the doorframe of Danny's room and peered in, not wanting to wake the injured agent if he was asleep.

"Doug? Come on in…you just missed Abby." Danny said, shifting around in the bed, attempting to get more comfortable, a task that was all but impossible considering the extent of his injuries.

"I know. I got a call from her. She said you're muttering about going back to D.C. already." Doug walked into the room with David following behind him.

Danny frowned. "I'd do better back in D.C."

"That might be but until the docs out here okay you to travel, you ain't goin' nowhere." Doug replied, walking up to his partner's bed. Danny looked a little better than he had the night before but that wasn't saying much.

Danny's frown deepened. "You just have to remind me, don't you?"

"All in a day's work." Doug replied, with a grin. "Now, I gotta tell you, this isn't a strict social call."

Danny nodded. "I understand." He looked around Doug at David and said, "You were at the other hospital."

David flashed him a ready smile. "Yeah, that was me." He held out his hand. "David Sinclair."

Danny took his hand and shook it. "Daniel Webster. Yes, my parents had a twisted sense of humor. No, I don't have a sister named Merriam. Sorry, if you've already introduced yourself and I forgot. The drugs they've got me on, man…."

David chuckled at Danny's self-deprecating humor. "Don't worry about it. Everyone thinks your name is funny, right?"

"Everyone's a comedian." Danny shot a look at Doug. "Especially this guy, _he_ thinks he's funny."

"Hey!" Doug protested. "You laugh."

"I was raised properly, not to disrespect my elders." Danny shot back, winking at David.

"You've got to be feeling better if you're taking jabs me." Doug said, secretly glad to see Danny's sense of humor returning.

Danny shrugged his one good shoulder. "Comes and goes." He looked at the two men. "Let me guess, you want to know if I remember anything since you and Abby were here last night."

Doug looked at David and grinned. "Did I tell you he could read minds too?"

"Hey, whatever works." David replied.

"I sorta remember something. It comes in bits and pieces. I know I got as far as a car park near Disney Land." Danny told them.

Doug looked at David. "Any clue as to which one that might be?"

"Depends on which highway he took from LAX..." David responded.

"I-5" Danny replied.

David nodded. "There's a few places to check along that route ... it's one of the most congested traffic arteries in LA."

"I kept seeing signs for Disney World." Danny added.

"Understandable - other than Hollywood itself, Disneyland is one of the largest tourist attractions in Southern California." David schooled his features into a neutral expression, but Doug understood where the LA Agent was coming from.

"Uh…Danny, that's kinda like a tourist in DC saying he kept seeing signs for the Capitol Tour or the Washington Mall experience..." Doug was a gentle as he could be, but they needed the information locked up in his brain. "Come on, Danny Boy, think. Anything else that didn't smack of touristy things?"

Danny frowned, closed his eyes and thought. "I was heading away from the airport and toward the Disney Land and I kept seeing the exit signs for it off the freeway." His frown deepened. "Trees, I remember lots and lots of trees and not trees you'd see at an amusement park."

Doug glanced over at David, who'd perked up at Danny's answer. "You got something from that, David?"

"Maybe ... there's an fairly well-known to Los Angelinos arboretum that ... well, it's about halfway between LAX and Disney ... and it's just off the Five."

"Okay, looks like we got our first lead." Doug said. He looked back at Danny. "You did good, thanks."

That got a smile from the younger man. "Whatever I can do to help…" He yawned. "Man, I can't seem to stay awake for more than ten minutes."

"Not surprising considering what you've been through." Doug replied. "I bet they've got you on some _real_ good drugs." He looked up at the IV bag hanging above Danny's head.

"Yeah, I guess." Danny mumbled, slowly losing his fight to stay awake.

"Get some sleep, Danny Boy." Doug told his partner. "I know Abby's gonna run your ass ragged when we get back to D.C."

But Danny did not hear Doug; he had dropped off to sleep already.

*************

Forty miles away on the campus of University of California- Riverside, Megan watched as the roommate of the two girls who had found Danny leave the dorm room. George closed the door behind her, leaving the two Agents in the room with two bed-head college girls. "Ladies, I'm Agent Megan Reeves with the FBI, this is Agent George Staunton. We have a few questions for you if you wouldn't mind sitting up and paying attention?"

Tamara and Brittney, wide eyed, sat up and exchanged looks.

Megan waited until both girls were mostly awake and tried not to recall her own college dorm days. "This is about the poor soul you found along side the road in Yorba Linda ... Friday night, early Saturday morning. Do you both recall that?"

Both nodded. Brittney spoke first "Yeah, I remember, I had to go out in the driving rain because Tamara couldn't remember to get her car battery changed."

"Hey!" Tamara protested. "If it hadn't been for me, you'd have run the guy over."

"If it hadn't been for you, I wouldn't have been there in the first place." Brittney shot back.

George made a slight strangled noise and Megan put a reassuring hand on his elbow to redirect his attention. "LADIES!" She raised her voice to cut over the catfight. "Thank you for not running over the man, however you managed to do it. What I'd like to know is if you spotted any other traffic on that road before you found him and, if so, do you recall what you saw?"

Both thought for a moment, then Tamara spoke "I don't think so, it was really hard to see."

Brittney nodded in agreement. "There was a little traffic on the road but not much. Definitely not around where we were."

"Did either of you get out of your car to check on the gentleman?" Megan asked as George scribbled notes.

Brittney gave Megan a 'Are you kidding me?' look, then said "Like I told the On-Star operator 'No and I'm not about too either'."

"Me either. It was coming down in sheets." Tamara said.

Megan let out a slightly disgruntled sigh, but really couldn't blame the girls. "That's all right. May I ask - other than the dead battery issue – what you were doing in Yorba Linda? It's not exactly just down the road from here."

Tamara grinned. "There is an unbelievable night club out there. Near the golf course, all kinds of cute guys in it."

"Well, that I understand - completely." Megan smiled at the girls and watched out of the corner of her eye as George shuddered. She reached into the pocket of her tailored sport jacket and pulled out two cards and handed one to each girl. "If you think of anything, anything at all, please don't hesitate to call me. Oh, and Tamara?"

"Yes, ma'am?" Tamara asked.

"You need to check the alternator, you probably shelled it, which is why your battery died." With that, Megan motioned to George to leave and practically had to hustle him out the door. She had spotted a look in the girls' eyes - especially Tamara's - that was decidedly predatory and locked on George.

Tamara grinned at him. Brittney followed her friend's gaze. "Tamara!!! Stop that! You can't hit on a Fed!"

"What?" Tamara seemed downright disappointed. "What are you talking about?"

"I've seen that look. He's out of your league."

"Oh, yeah and he's in yours?"

"I wouldn't be hitting on a Fed. Jeez."

Megan pulled the door shut behind her and started to laugh, albeit quietly.

George turned to look at her like she was losing her mind. "Megan, you didn't tell them they nearly hit an FBI agent..."

"No need." She managed, barely, to stop chuckling. "They didn't get out of the car and, unless you want to go back in there, they really don't need to know that Danny's a Fed or still alive."

George turned beet red. "No, thanks." He mumbled.

"So you caught the look on Tamara's face too?"

"Yeah.... scary, you know that? Like I was a piece of meat or something." He shuddered.

Megan put a reassuring hand on his shoulder and guided him, like she would Colby or David, out of the building. "Welcome to the world of the beautiful or handsome and deadly. Not all of us have it, but those of us that do, can learn to work that deadly sex appeal when working a suspect ...I suggest you learn. Or some Tamara in your future will eat you alive."

He swallowed and nodded. "Abby's told me that too. I guess I just don't see it."

"That's good, means you won't get all vain." She opened the doors on the Dodge with her remote key and the two of them climbed in for the drive back to headquarters.

Danny waited for Megan to pull the car out of the parking lot before saying "That was a waste of time."

"Maybe, maybe not...we did learn one thing."

"And that is?"

"Okay, two. One - neither of the girls is a suspect in the theft of Danny's weapon and ID."

Megan waited for the question she knew would come.

"What's the second thing?"

"You've got "it" George, now you just need to learn to flaunt it."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The silence in the sedan grew, but not uncomfortably so, until Agent Reeves pulled onto the freeway and slipped into the flow of traffic. She then got George's attention. "Hey, Staunton, a penny for your thoughts."

George looked at Megan. "How long have you worked for the Bureau?"

"Directly or indirectly?"

"Um.... directly, I guess."

"Seven years, I did a internship in the BAU under Agent Gideon while I was getting my Masters. Why?"

"Have you had team members get hurt? I mean, REALLY, hurt?"

"Do you count dying, only to be brought back from the dead?"

George blinked. "Sure."

"Then, yes. Granger was deep undercover and that damn near led to his permanent death - thank goodness Don and David came upon him quickly enough to save him from that." She swung out and around a slowpoke doing 60mph before continuing. "And there was the time when an Agent in the NY BAU got shot in the head by a cop killer - she survived, but left the Bureau."

He blinked. "Agent Granger? Wait.... wasn't that the.... the…big huge mess with the freighter last summer?"

Megan nodded. "Yeah. I came into the room while they were working hard to get Colby back - damn near puked my guts out."

"You did?"

"Oh yeah." She made another lane change to avoid a weaving idiot. "Colby's kinda like the little brother I never had - and a damn good friend. I thought we'd lost him after everything we did and, well, it was a natural reaction."

George swallowed. "I almost did the same thing when I saw Danny." His voice was lowered and it was hard for Megan to hear him.

Her hand came off the steering wheel and clasped his where it lay on the seat between them. "Hey, that's perfectly understandable. Especially if this is the first time you've seen a victim of a beat down like that. The fact it was a friend and a coworker ... only made things worse for you."

He nodded. "I guess. But then, I kinda guessed that something was really wrong when Don called Abby back in D.C. and she cursed when she hung up the phone." He looked at Megan for a moment. "Abby never curses on the job. It's not professional she says."

Megan let out a snort of laughter. "Sorry about that. I'm trying to imagine our team not cussing on a regular basis.... we're pretty civil, usually, but there are times when a curse word is the only thing that covers a situation."

"Well, let me modify that a bit. She only curses when the situation REALLY calls for it. And the rest of us, yeah, we all cuss. Doug gives new meaning to 'cuss like a sailor'. So, I knew something was really wrong, I just wasn't expecting it to be quite so bad."

Megan let go of his hand to once again make a minor correction, this time to move over to the outside lane so she could exit soon. "Let me tell you something I heard a very wise person say one day. 'Any day that you can go home from is a good day.' Even if it takes a while to get home - you're alive and that's good. I know right about now Danny is probably going to protest that, considering how banged up he is, but he's going to live, he'll heal and he'll be back in the saddle as soon as he can convince the docs to release him." She pulled onto the off ramp. "Unless I'm completely misreading him."

George shook his head. "Nah, he's already chomping at the bit to leave. I can tell." He sighed. "This has really hit Abby hard. She's my first boss and she's great. I really hate seeing her so upset."

"She does seem like good people. You're lucky. My first boss out of Quantico was an ass. I thought everyone was like Agent Gideon, but I couldn't have been more wrong." She pulled up to a stop light and took the moment to turn to face him. "George, you're in a division that won't see much in the way of physical violence against people, which is good. But if you get a chance, work a year or two with another unit. Just to get the feel of the down and dirty, fast and furious investigation techniques. It'll look great on your resume when you finally reach a level where you're being considered for a boss's slot."

"Is that what you did?" He asked.

"My year with BAU as an intern was all about the violence people do to other people and trying to understand how the mind of such a.... critter works. My first assignment out of Quantico was more sedate. White collar crimes in Cleveland."

"Which one did you like better?"

"BAU took a lot out of me. The adrenaline rush was great, but the rest of the crap..." Megan shook her head. "I like figuring out what makes normal people tick, but serial criminals are not normal. White collar crime was more about tax evasion and embezzlement, but what I'm doing now...it's a little more satisfying."

"So, you're satisfied with what you're doing now?"

"Yeah, I am. Oh there are times when I wonder what the hell I'm doing here, but for the most part, I like it and can handle the occasional FUBAR moment in an investigation." She pulled through the light and, shortly, turned down Wiltshire Blvd toward the Federal offices. "Every division has its FUBARs, you just learn to roll with them and try to avoid them the next time."

Another nod. "Yeah, I'm starting to realize that. How did you come to the Bureau? I came straight out of college."

"The same. I was lucky enough to do the internship, then got approached my last year by a FBI recruiter who'd learned about me from the BAU. I graduated college on May 15th, joined the Bureau on June 1st and went right into the grindstone that is the FBI Academy at Quantico." She pulled into the garage next to the FBI office and, after going up to the second deck, parked into a spot close to the elevators.

George grinned. "I think we had the same recruiter. Well, maybe not quite the same. I didn't do anything like an internship. I heard about the Bureau during 'Career Day' at my college. I thought my mother was going to pass out when I told her."

Megan chuckled. "My father didn't pass out, but he did pitch a hissy. Pretty much disowned me after I joined the Bureau. Mom, however, told me she pretty much expected it of me, called me her little rebel. I know my Emma Willard classmates have had a field day talking about how I _went beyond the pale_ when I went for a _real job_ instead of looking for a charity job or a rich husband to bag."

George started to laugh. "You came from money? Really?"

Megan turned off the engine and got out of the sedan. "Yeah, upstate New York old bloods. Hypocrites, more like but, yeah, you can even find my name on the social registers."

"Wow. Okay, gee, my family is a bunch of nobodies from Alabama."

"That's why the Bureau is such a great place to work - it draws people from all over. Sinclair's family is from NYC and there's a long line of cops in his family tree, Granger's got a history too. Eppes' mother was a lawyer but his father was a city planer and, well, his brother is a certified mathematical genius."

"Yeah, Danny's from money. You two probably are on the same register, you share almost the same story. His father disowned him too."

Megan halted in her tracks as she approached the elevator. "Crap! He's one of THOSE Webster's? Son of J.D. Webster the Forth?"

George nodded. "Yeah. Does that make a difference?"

"Not really - but I might want to let Don know that one of the biggest law firms on the other side of the Mississippi river might just be ~very~ interested in our investigation." She punched the call button and crossed her arms over her stomach. "Hell, knowing how that law firm works ... they've probably already tapped into the investigation. Damn it."

George's brow furrowed in thought. "Danny doesn't talk about his family at all." He paused, then added, "You might want to give Abby a head's up too. She's more acquainted with his family than any of us."

The doors opened and Megan ducked into the lift, followed by George. "Actually, I'm pretty familiar with them too. RWR Associates ... Remington, Webster and Reeves."

George's eyes popped open. "Your father and Danny's father are partners at the same firm?"

"Sounds like it, huh?"

"Dang. Danny'll have a fit if he hears about this."

"Why? I won't treat him any differently. I know what it's like to not want to be recognized as the black sheep of a East Coast Society 'it' Family."

"It's not you, it's him. He's embarrassed by his family."

"Hey, so am I ... No problem, I will treat him like the agent he is, not the disappointment of the Bloods." Megan smiled to take the sting out of her words. "Besides, that's MY position. I'm the Totally Black Sheep of the Bloods."

George grinned. "Nah, you can't be, you're too good looking."

"Looks have NOTHING to do with being a Society cast out. Besides, I'm having a lot more fun being a thorn in Daddy's side than I ever did being his little tomboy." Megan spotted Don as they got off the elevator and, after making sure George spotted Doug and went to brief him. George, following her non-verbal suggestion, walked over to Doug, told him of the their talk with the girls all the while chewing on the ideas that Megan had put in his brain.

****************

Danny walked through his place one last time, making sure everything was off and making sure the DVR was set to record his favorite shows, then snatched up his small suitcase and carryon, locked the door and walked to the curb just as the cab he'd called arrived to take him to the airport.

The events passed by at an astonishing rate as he flew to Los Angeles, California, to follow up on the lead his Confidential Informant had dropped on his lap. Next thing he could clearly see was the parking lot of the Fullerton Arboretum and checking his watch as he parked his rental car. He was late. There was a good chance the CI had split. Sighing, he climbed out from behind the wheel and walked into the lush, tree sanctuary's parkland and started to look for the single specimen of Osage Bowdark his CI told him would be their meeting point.

The tree wasn't that difficult to find and it had a bench nearby, so Danny decided to wait, just in case the Informant checked back. He looked at his watch again and wondered how he'd lost 70 minutes of his time. After waiting for fifteen minutes, he decided that the CI was not coming back and headed for his car. The sun was setting, turning the shaded pathways into dark alleys of silence. He was nearly to the entrance, the orange glow of sodium lights just barely visible beyond the path's end, when the first blow landed and his head exploded. The pain was intense, actually causing his vision to fail but the worst part was the sickening and cloying odor of the cloth that was clamped over his mouth and nose by a hand who's arm he couldn't gain a grip on.

The darkness was complete. The pain, the blows, rained down on his body in the darkness. He was constantly tensing up, trying to envision where the next blow would come from, where it would land, the question that would be asked that he couldn't answer. His knee collided with something far less forgiving than a steel rod and he gagged on the agony.

Finally his arms were freed from their restraints - when had that happened? - and he was able to defend himself, only he couldn't. His arms weren't working right. His vision barely cleared and he saw a form looming over his bloodied body and Daniel Webster ~willed~ his arm to move his hand and managed to connect his fist to the area of the shadow that looked like it might have been a face . . .

~*~*~*~*~*~

He knew better. With all his experience, Doug Miller knew better than to try and wake someone suffering through a nightmare but that was his partner thrashing around in the bed. He couldn't let Danny continue to do that, he just couldn't. He stepped up to the bed, touched Danny on the shoulder and said "Danny? Come on wake up. It's Doug, you're safe."

Danny's eyes flipped open and Doug smiled at him. "Danny bo...." Doug's sentence was cut off when Danny's fist connected with his cheek. He yelped in surprise, stumbled backward and almost sat down. "Damn." He muttered, rubbing his cheek. "This is why you don't try to wake people up from nightmares." He approached the bed again but stayed out of arm's range this time. "Danny, it's Doug. You're safe."

"D-doug?"

"Yeah, it's me." Doug said, looking into Danny's wide eye stare. "Having a nightmare, hmm?"

Danny just nodded, then cradled his right hand in his left. "First time I've awakened with actual instead of just remembered pain though."

Doug rubbed his cheek some more. "Well, I'm probably responsible for that. I forgot what a wicked right hook you have."

"I hit you?" The younger agent asked, confusion tinting the already troubled brown eyes.

"Not intentionally." Doug soothed. "I know better than to try and wake someone from a nightmare."

"Doug, I am so sorry. I didn't know, I thought.... I thought..." Danny's face screwed up into a mask of concentration even as he closed his eyes. "DAMN IT!"

"Danny." Doug touched the younger man on the shoulder again. "You wanna talk about it?"

Danny shook his head. "It's not that I can't recall the beating ... I can, all too clearly. I just -- WHY can't I recall the faces of the assholes that did this to me?"

Doug shrugged. "A bunch of reasons. It was dark, they drugged you, and your mind just refuses to reveal their faces."

"Yeah. I guess." Danny shrunk back down into the mattress. "Well, at least I can now tell you how many people were involved. Two men and, I think, a woman."

Doug's ears perked up. "Really? Can you think of anything other than that? Height, hair color, voices?"

Danny let out a snort of disgust. "All I can recall is the rough baritone rumbles and something that sounded like... Moaning Myrtle in the Ubend, only not as clear. Just the pitch."

"Moaning Myrtle?" Doug started to laugh.

"Yeah, you know the actress with the high-pitched voice.... have you never seen the movies?"

"I can honestly say I've never watched a movie with an actress nicknamed Moaning Myrtle. Not even the porno flicks." Doug grinned.

Danny just grimaced. "I just can't remember the actress's name but she has a very high pitched and irritating speaking voice. Imagine that coming at you from under water and then, just for grins and giggles, garble it like the radio encoders make our secure transmissions sound like Secret Squirrel Chatter on radios that don't have the right encryption coded in."

"Ah...." Doug nodded, understanding dawning. "I gotcha. What else do you remember?"

"Nothing. Well, nothing beyond each and every single fucking blow of a fist or something else - right before they did something to my knee, I puked and then.... well, then there really is nothing to recall." Danny's face screwed up again as he fought to try to remember anything. "Cold ... and wetness. Rain? Cold rain?" He shook his head. "I'm not even sure that's a memory."

Doug hated seeing his partner go through this but there wasn't anything he could do. The nightmares and everything that went with them, Danny would have to deal with on his own. "Well, according to the weather reports, it did nothing but rain for four days, starting on Thursday."

"But it wasn't raining when I got to the Aboretum...."

Doug chewed on his lip for a moment. Should he tell Danny where he was found or not? What the hell, he would found out sooner or later. "Danny, they didn't find you at the Aboretum."

"Huh? But that's where--" He shook his head. "Of course, they - whomever 'they' are - wouldn't have wanted an audience. I must have been moved from there without knowing it."

"According to the report, two college kids found on you on the side of the road about 10 miles from the Aboretum and yeah, it was pouring rain by then."

"Side of the road? I was dumped?"

"One girl was driving, her passenger saw something on the side of the road, screamed and got her to stop."

Danny shook his head again. "Damn.... I'm glad they didn't run me over. I've got enough aches and pains as it is." He dropped his chin down to his chest before looking back up at Doug. "I don't think whomever assaulted me expected me to live, Doug."

Doug nodded. "You'd be right there, Danny boy."

"That was Friday night. Abby got the call from Don, early Saturday morning."

"Doug ... odd question time ... was my cell phone found on me?"

Doug's forehead wrinkled in thought, then cleared. "Nnnnnnnoooo. From what I remember, you were found with the clothes on your back and that was it. The sheriff id'ed you from your prints early Saturday morning. You woke up and ided yourself to a nurse too." He grinned. "Also, according to the report, you were quite insistent on getting a phone."

"Well yeah! I've got to let my CI know I didn't blow him/her off. They've been too good of a source to risk alienating them." Danny looked up at Doug; using the one expression Doug had absolutely no defense for - the wounded puppy look. "Doug, did you bring your laptop or can you snag one for me? I really - and I mean REALLY - need to check to see if the CI emailed me when I didn't show. Maybe I can get them to accept someone else - you for instance - as a 'safe' replacement contact."

Doug blinked. "Danny, I think you got knocked on the head harder than we all thought. Your one job is to heal up so we can drag your ass home. As for the CI, as morbid as this may sound, what makes you think they're still around and not in either the ocean or the wind?"

"That's just it, I don't know and I need to check to be sure, which means I need access to a laptop or a web-capable phone."

Doug chewed on his lower lip again, something he did when he needed a few extra moments to think. With a sigh, he took his cell phone from his pocket and handed it to Danny. "All right, I'm giving you five minutes. If Abby walks in the door, and she just might, you stop whatever you're doing, got it?"

Danny snatched the phone and accessed the web faster than Doug could dial a 10-digit number. Four minutes later, and one text message sent out, the phone was back in Doug's possession. "Thanks. There was a recent entry on the page the CI uses, so someone is still active on that end. Now to see if they'll contact you in my stead."

Doug shook his head. "I didn't think it was possible for someone to have a harder head than Abigail Stroud but I was wrong."

"Hey, I inherited this informant, I'm not about to screw up that relationship if I can possibly avoid it. Even if it means I have to turn them over to you for a short time."

"Ooooh, you trust me with your informant. I'm touched." Doug smiled at the younger man.

Danny chuckled, then moaned as the movement caused his cracked ribs to protest. "Damn, that hurts. As for you being 'touched' ... you're due for another psychological evaluation soon."

"And so are you mister, especially after this."

Danny's mood immediately sobered. "Yeah, I know. Yee-haw. Playing mind-games with the shrinks again."

Doug shrugged. "We all gotta do it, sooner or later, you know that."

"Some of us sooner rather than later."

Doug shook his head. "What's the first thing you remember after the Arboretum?"

"Waking up to see an FBI agent I didn't know sitting in a chair near my bed."

Doug nodded. "That would have been early Saturday morning. His name's David Sinclair. Good guy."

"Yeah, well, that's the first solid memory I have. The voices, or what I think were voices, is the only other thing I recall other than then royal smack down ... and I'm not even 70% sure I could ID the voices if I heard them again."

"Voices? You mean the voices you heard during the 'smack down'?" Doug sat back in his chair and thought. "You tell David anything?"

"I honestly don't recall, Doug."

Another nod. "You know what day it is today?"

"Tuesday?"

"Sunday."

"Guess I wasn't out of it as long as it feels like."

Doug chuckled. "I know the feeling. You've got a good team looking to find the bastards that did this. Don, the team leader, has got a good head on his shoulders."

"Great. Maybe they'll find them before I get kissed and shipped back to DC."

"They're all good. Abby seems to like Don, enough to work with him any way. She hasn't bitten his head off yet. David, the guy you remember, has been working with me and he really knows his way around L.A. There's a woman on the team too. Her name is Megan she's a looker. George is working with her and, you're not going to believe this but Cody Granger's brother is on Don's team too."

"Really? You know, Cody's brother is damn near a legend ... and Cody says the guy hates that."

"You know why he's a near legend?" Doug asked.

"Yeah!" Danny got animated. "He was instrumental in bringing down a major ass mole inside the Justice Department who was a planted ChiCom."

"You know he nearly got killed?"

"No ... I didn't know about that ... I just recall Cody damn near planting Falkenbury in the wall outside our department."

Doug chuckled. "Yeah, I remember that. Cody was pissed. I'd never seen him that mad. But, according to Abby, Colby was, technically, dead when his team was finally able to get to him. Remember all that mess about the Feds stopping a Chinese freighter?"

"Yeah." Danny nodded, then yawned. Largely. "Sorry ... I just can't seem to wake up fully."

"Don't worry about it. You need to rest. I can go. Abby's probably wondering where I am."

"Okay ... hey, Doug?"

"Yeah, Danny boy?"

"Might want to stop by the ER and see if they can give you an ice pack or something ... You're already getting a nice shiner."

"And a story to match." Doug said. "Get some sleep. Okay?"

"Yes, sir." Danny snuggled back down into the covers and, before Doug could leave the room, the younger man's breathing evened out as he dropped back off to sleep.

Doug stepped back over to the bed and tugged the blanket up over Danny's shoulders. "Sleep well, Danny boy."

***************

Doug had hoped, all the way to the Federal Bldg. that the shiner Danny had given him wouldn't be that noticeable, that maybe the swelling wouldn't come up that quick, that maybe, just maybe, he could talk his way around it. He had no such luck. From the look the cabbie gave him when he got in the cab to the man running the metal detector on the ground floor of the Federal Bldg., there was no way he was going to be able to talk his way out of this.

After getting off at the correct floor, he made a beeline to the bathroom, to check and see how bad it really was. He grimaced when he looked in the mirror. He had had worse but not from a colleague. Abby was going to freak, no doubt about it. He gave out a sigh, squared his shoulders and turned toward the door, might as well face the music.

Doug found both teams in the AV lab attempting to watch and scan surveillance footage directly from the DVD's, which was not exactly the most efficient way to do so but it gave everyone someone to do. He slipped into the room, determined to keep the side the shiner was on away from everyone. He wasn't successful.

"Damn, Doug, what happened to you?" David asked.

Doug felt the eyes of all five people in the room come to rest on him. He shrugged and said, "Would anyone believe me if I said it was an accident?"

Megan looked at him and shook her head. "Only if it was someone you know and they didn't mean to hit you. That is an rather obvious fist-shaped bruising, Miller."

Doug crossed his arms and looked at a point somewhere over Megan's shoulder. "You'd be right then."

Abby crossed the room and looked up into the face of her senior agent, when he tried to turn away from her scrutiny, she reached up, grabbed his chin and made him look back at her. "Damn ... Doug, you never get hit unless you want to. What happened?"

Doug gave another sigh. "It was truly an accident. I woke Danny up out of a nightmare and he took a swing at me without knowing it was me, that's all."

Abby nodded, letting go of Doug's face as she did. "Any idea what he was dreaming?" She was concerned but if Danny was starting to recall what happened…She had to know about it.

Another shrug. "He said he remembered the beating and that there were three people, two men and a woman. He said the woman's voice was like Moaning Myrtle? Not in what she was saying, 'cause he couldn't make that out, but in tone. The men were baritone."

David winced. "Really? Moaning Myrtle? Ouch, that's one screechy soprano voice."

Doug looked at him. "You know who he's talking about? Good. All I could think of was the character from the Harry Potter stories."

David laughed. "That's who he's talking about. My niece loves those movies. Moaning Myrtle is a ghost who haunts the girls' toilet, she's played by Shirley Henderson in the movies. Great actress, but--" a shudder ripped through David's body "-- her voice can grate on even the most hardened nerves."

"Oh, okay. Jeez...." Doug let out a shudder as well.

He looked at Abby. "Danny was really sorry. And I, I know better...So, if anyone is going to get a scolding, it should be me."

Abby shook her head. "I'm not going to scold you ... I figure you've been - forcibly reminded why you don't get near a person experiencing night terrors. ESPECIALLY when they have the type of self-defense training the Instructors at Quantico drill into their green-as-new-grass probies."

Doug flushed the most becoming shade of crimson. "Yeah, well."

The door behind Don swung open and a slightly younger, but not much, version of Cody from the Cryptography Department walked into the room. "Don ... I got here as soo-- Oh, new faces."

"Damn...you are a dead ringer for a crypto agent back in D.C." Doug said, looking at the man standing in the doorway.

The new arrival smiled, "That would probably be my brother, Cody Granger?"

Doug held out his hand. "Doug Miller. You're the baby brother I've heard about.... Colby, right?"

"Yeah ... does he really call me his "baby" brother?" Colby shook the man's hand. "I've got to remind him that I can wipe the gym floor with his body."

Doug grinned. "Among other things." He looked over at Don, then back at Colby. "So, you're the missing man, hmm?"

"I'm no longer missing." Colby looked past Doug's shoulders to see Reeves messing around with a DVD and the banks of audio/visual equipment. "Uh, Megan? Don't break the equipment."

She turned around and smiled brightly at him. "Well, now that you're here, I won't have to mess with it anymore." She stepped out of the way. "It is all yours."

Colby nodded and started to move past the younger new face in the room, but the man seemed rooted to the spot. "Uh, excuse me ... could you scootch over just a wee bit, Agent--?"

"Staunton." The young man stammered.

"Right, Staunton ... move about one foot that-a-way." Colby waved his hand in the general direction he wanted the man to move. "Don ... who ARE these folks and why are they mucking about our AV Lab? You know how Matt can be about this room."

He moved past Staunton, who had finally moved, and pulled an extra chair over to sit down next to Megan.

"These people...well...what's the fastest way to explain." Don said. He pointed at Abby. "This is Agent Abby Stroud," he motioned at Doug "you've already met Doug Miller," he pointed at George, "George Staunton. They're from D.C., Art Theft division. One of Stroud's agents was found on the side of the road up by the Black Gold Country Club late Friday night. He'd been rolled."

Colby's head whipped around to stare at the visiting agents. "Your man okay?"

Doug nodded. "He will be. Don called Abby early Saturday morning and we all hopped the first flight out here."

"Good." He turned back to the table and equipment in front of him and noticed the rather daunting stack of DVD's near Megan's elbow. "Oh crud. Those aren't what I think they are, are they, Megan?"

She nodded. "They are exactly what you think they are. On the top are the vids from the TSA, then the vids from LAX PD. Danny, Agent Webster, doesn't remember much beyond waking up in the hospital, so...."

Colby just nodded and turned back to the keyboard and, after about a minute of fingers flying over the board, a photo of Agent Daniel J. Webster was up on the center display monitor. "That him?"

"Yeah." Megan said.

His fingers flew across the board a few more times and a facial recognition program visually mapped out Agent Webster's face. "Okay, that's done ... now to load those DVDs into the memory buffer and run the program. You wanna try?" Colby asked Megan.

Megan looked at him. "I would, if I knew how."

Colby bumped her shoulder with his, "Aw, Meg ... I'd show you, if Matt trusted you enough not to hurt his precious baby. Want me to call him at home and ask him?"

She shot him the ugliest look possible. "No, Matt wouldn't trust the Director of the FBI with his machines."

Colby laughed outright. "You got that right." He reached past her for the first DVD, popped it out of its case and loaded it into the nearest reader port, then grabbed another and loaded it in another port. "Anyone who can load a DVD player, grab a disc and start feeding the hungry Baby."

George stepped up, opened a case and fed a DVD into the nearest reader. Doug helped him and so did David.

Once all the discs had been fed and read into the machine, Colby did something with the playback that had all the vids playing at once with the facial recognition program. All 22 DVD's playing at one time, displaying on 8 monitors ... it was enough to make a normal person dizzy. "I'll go back through the feeds once the FR picks out the likely candidate footage. I am assuming we're looking A. For Agent Webster and B. Anyone acting screwy around him, right?"

Abby nodded.

He glanced back at one of the monitors. "This is going to take a while ... some of those DVD's have multiple tracks of video coverage. Some as few as four feeds, but one or two have eight to ten."

"How long?" Abby asked.

He glanced at his watch, then the clock on the wall and let out a sigh. "Long enough that I need to make a call and tell someone I'm not coming home until later than expected." Colby stood up, pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and excused himself. "I'll be right back ... Don, you seriously owe both of us for this. But once I tell her, maybe she'll write it off." Cryptic talk, but Eppes seemed to understand and just nodded as he let Colby slide by him and out into the bullpen.

All eyes came to rest on Don. "Us?" Doug asked.

"Girlfriend. Federal Agent with another Department."

Doug grinned. "The man's got taste."

Don nodded, grudgingly. "Yeah, she's been a good influence on him but ... I should probably call her later and grovel in apology in person."

George blinked, seem to come to life and said "Wow, that's really Colby Granger. Cool."

David looked at George. "What, did you think he was ten foot tall and breathed fire or something?"

George colored. "Well..."

David chuckled. "George, trust me, treat him like you would his brother and you'll be a 'good man' to him." He looked at the DC Agents and explained. "Colby hates the idea that there are fellow agents that look at him as some sort of hero for that China Crap. He really couldn't be more normal if he tried."

George nodded and promptly stuffed both feet in his mouth. "After hearing about what happened...I'm kinda surprised that he's still here. I thought he'd have his pick of assignments."

Don chuckled. "He did. He wanted to stay here."

"That's quite a compliment for your team, Don." Abby said, in an attempt to save what remained of the younger agent's dignity.

"I know. And I'm glad he opted to stay here." Don responded.

Megan volunteered more, "Yeah, he turned down a very nice assignment in DC to stay here."

"Yeah, it's not everyone whose hand picked to be a Roving Investigator by Director Atwater..." David groused, but everyone could tell the LA team was ecstatic that Granger had opted to stay with them.

George nodded. "I just..." He paused. "I don't know if I could do what he did."

"I hope you never have to find out, Staunton." Colby had come back into the room like a silent ghost.

George froze for a moment, then turned to look at Colby. "You normally sneak up on people like that?"

The grin that crossed Granger's face was scary, but the glance he shot at Sinclair was telling. "Nah, not always, it's a skill I honed in spy school."

If it was possible to tell when a black man was blushing, it was blindingly obvious in David's case.

George stared at Colby, his eyes squinting as he made his decision. "You're pulling my leg, aren't you, Granger? There's no spy school.... well, other than the CIA."

"Yeah, I'm pulling your leg AND David's. He knows why."

George looked at David, then back at Colby and shook his head. "I don't want to know."

"Colby ... you are going to let that rest sometime in the near future, right? Or are you saving up on that to blackmail me when I'm Director?" Sinclair teased his teammate.

"What makes you think you'll make Director before I do?"

"Kids!" Don interrupted before the two get really get going. "NEITHER of you are going to make Director before Megan does, so cool it."

"Why thank you, Don. So nice of you to realize that." Megan said, grinning.

"God, they're just as nutty as we are." Doug muttered.

Abby nodded in agreement. "If it was possible, I'd say they're worse. I keep expecting to see the wet towels to be brought out just for grins and giggles."

Don groaned. "Please don't give them any encouragement."

"No wet towels in here ... Matt would kill me, and then hunt down everyone else." Colby turned back to the board and checked the progress of the filtering program. "Another 40 minutes or so for the first filter run. I am feeling a little peckish ... anyone else ready for lunch?"

Doug perked right up. "Lunch? Sounds good." He looked at Abby. "We all need to get something to eat."

David nodded in agreement. "Yeah, you thinking about the deli down the street, Colby?"

"Oh yeah.... one of their Rubens." He reached into a back pocket and pulled out his wallet. "I'll buy if you'll run?"

David's eyes lit up. "You must've had a heck of a weekend, if you're offering to buy."

"Defended my title without breaking or bruising anything. Still Caid Champion."

Abby's eyebrows went up. "Do I even want to know?"

Doug snorted and reached into his back pocket to pull out his wallet. "If it's what I think it is..." He shook his head. "This deli got BLT's, things like that, David?"

David nodded, then grabbed up a notepad to write down requests on. "I'll probably need someone to help me haul the load back here..."

"I'll go." George volunteered. "I do it all the time back in D.C."

"Thanks, George." David nodded and passed the notepad over to Megan. "Here, Reeves, you know how the guys at the deli hate reading my handwriting...."

Megan snickered. "Yeah, the last time you wrote something down for them, one of them told me you had missed your calling as a doctor, your hand writing was horrible."

"All right..." Doug said, "BLT for me. Abby, what do you want? Egg Salad?"

Abby looked over at the LA team, "Does this place do a veggie special?"

David nodded. "You want one? They have a veggie wrap that even Granger'll eat. It's that good."

Don nodded. "Yeah, it's just your usual lettuce, tomato, bean sprouts and avocado.. peppers on request."

Colby shook his head. "Actually, it's more than that ... and you can get it Vegan or the "Old fashioned Veggie" - which has cheese and hard boiled egg chopped up in it plus just about every veggie you can think of as sandwich makings."

"Okay, I'll take one of those, the old fashioned veggie." She looked at Doug. "Happy?"

Doug returned the look. "I'll be happy when you eat the whole thing."

He handed over some money to George. "Keep the change." He told the younger man with a grin.

"Ha ha." George said.

After George left, Abby sidled over to Don and tapped him on the shoulder. "Can I borrow you for a couple minutes?"

Don took in Abby's expression and nodded. "Sure. You want to talk somewhere else?"

She shook her head. "I don't want anyone else to know about this. Not even anyone else in this room." Her eyes roamed around the room for a moment before returning to Don. "It's about Danny."

Don flicked a glance at Doug before looking back at Abby with a practiced eye, "Nightmares?"

"Yeah. As you can see, he's been having some doozies." She looked down at the ground for a moment, then back up at Don, where he could clearly see the hurt and frustration on her face.

Don nodded. "I've got just the person. I'll given him a call and see if he can't squeeze Danny in either today or tomorrow." He paused, then added, "He could talk to you too, ya know. I've been to see him and I'm still here." He gave her a quick smile.

"Must be one hell of a mind-bender then." Abby contemplated the idea of talking to someone outside her 'comfort zone' - she had been to see a shrink back in Arlington, years ago, but the good doctor was no longer in active practice. "If he can see Danny, I'd appreciate it. I also wouldn't mind if he - or she - could recommend someone back home for the rest of us."

Another nod. "I'll ask. He's got a grapevine that the Hollywood gossip magazines would kill for."

She gave him the briefest of smiles. "I seem to be saying this a lot but thanks."

"You're welcome." Don said. "We supervisory agents have to stick together."

*******************

"Lila.... would I ask for a favor like this, again, if it really wasn't important?" Don leaned on Lila's desk and smiled his most winning smile.

She quirked an eyebrow at him. "Eppes, if it wasn't for emergencies, you wouldn't HAVE a reason for coming here, you know that?"

"Oh, that's not true, Lila ... you know I've come for every single one of my personal appointments when I've made them." He leaned further against her desk. "You think I only come to chat with Doc Bradford?"

Lila chuckled. "Smooth, Eppes, very smooth. I'm sure you're a real charmer with the ladies." A grin flashed across her face. "You come for the coffee."

"Well, yeah, but the company I get with that coffee is pretty damn good too."

She started to laugh. "I bet you were one of the kids who always tried to talk his way out of trouble, weren't you?"

Don's grin was huge as he nodded. "Yeah, I was. But I was always willing to back up words with action..." He shrugged innocently. "So, any chance Bradford could be willing to see an out of town agent who is, in a really, really difficult spot?"

She sighed and flipped through the appointment book in front of her. "The things I do..." she muttered. "Is this an in-office visit or a hospital visit?"

"Considering his injuries ... hospital."

She nodded. "Which one?"

"Cedars. Does Bradford have visitation rights there?"

She nodded again. "Hmm...Hmm...Hmmm." Lila made noises to herself, running a pen down the book's pages. "The best I can do is Tuesday morning."

"That'll have to do then." Don leaned down and planted a kiss on the woman's cheek. "I'll call back with the room number for Bradford, but the agent's name is Daniel Webster. Out of DC."

Another nod, then her hand stilled. "Wait..." She looked up at Don. "This wouldn't be the unfortunate soul they found on the side of road last week, would it?"

Don tilted his head to one side. "What would you know about that?"

"I hear things, Eppes. Am I right?"

"Yeah, you're right ... but you didn't hear that from me, okay? We're trying to keep the lid on this one."

She nodded. "Hear what?"

Don grinned. "If you were just little younger ... I'd propose to you in a heart beat, Lila." He lifted her left hand off the keyboard of her computer and lightly kissed the back.

"If you were any younger, I might accept." She replied with a grin. "Now, unless you want to be witness to William pitching a fit because a certain FBI agent has, yet again, mucked up his schedule, I'd leave."

Don straightened, sketched a quick and courtly bow and backed out of the office as if in the presence of royalty. "Your wish is my command, Madam. Adieu, adieu, parting is such sweet sorrow...."


	5. Chapter 5

**Act Four**

"Agent Webster?"

Danny looked up to see a quasi-familiar face at the door of his room. "You a relative of Cody's?" He asked the man.

The stranger snickered as he nodded and walked into the room. "Yeah, I am. Colby Granger, Cody's little brother." Colby came over to Danny's side and held out a hand in greeting.

Danny shook hands with Colby. "You're in the Bureau too, huh?"

"Yeah, have been for a while now. Mind if I sit down?" Colby gestured to the chair near the bed.

"Sure. What brings you by? Need something from me?" Danny wasn't rude but he wasn't exactly polite either.

"Thanks." The other agent sat down before answering the questions. "As to why I'm here ... Agent Stroud asked me to stop by and just give you a friendly, non-judgmental ear to bend. Maybe give some advice to, if you want it."

Danny frowned. "Advice for what? What to do after getting the shyte beaten out of me?" He snorted. "Thanks but no thanks."

"Fine by me ... of course, don't expect Doc Bradford to believe that." Colby made to get up from the chair.

"Who?" Danny groaned. "Man....she's not sicing a shrink on me, is she? What for?"

Colby sank back into the lounge chair. "Yeah, Bradford's a shrink, but he's damn good and, better yet, he used to be a cop. He helped me after I was tortured, killed and brought back from the dead."

Danny blinked. "Come again?"

"What part did you blank out on?"

"Um.... the part about torturing, dying and coming back to life."

Colby shrugged and his tone of voice didn't change. It was flat and very matter of fact. "Yeah, that's what I thought you were asking about. I was working undercover when my cover was blown to smithereens and, after that, I was chemically tortured for information I didn't have until the cavalry arrived on scene and my 'interrogator' hit me with a syringe loaded with potassium chloride. I was Dead Right There after that."

Danny blinked again and swallowed. "And the brought back from the dead part?"

"Would you believe I'm immortal?" Colby quipped with a huge grin that rapidly faded before he answered in all seriousness. "Actually, my teammates, especially Agent Sinclair - I think you've meet him - refused to let me slip this mortal coil. Much to my family's relief and mine."

"Damn." Danny whispered and then the light bulb went on. "Colby Granger! That was YOUR team that stopped the freighter. Damn."

Colby's face flushed to a brilliant pink. "That has pretty much been the reaction of your entire team but I'm no different from you, Agent Webster."

Danny flushed himself. "Yeah, well..." He looked away from Colby for a moment.

"Hey, would you believe me if I told you that wasn't the first time I damn near died? I mean, I'll admit, the second time I did die and it was kinda worth it ... first time wasn't so _heroic_."

Danny quirked an eyebrow. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. Got a nice dose of heavy metal poisoning about four months prior to the whole international clusterfuck incident."

Danny's eyes popped open. "What?! What happened?"

"Neighbor lady. Older woman." Colby's eyes became shadowed but there was no anger in their depths. "She was using me, without my knowledge, as a guinea pig for some "research" she was doing for her great American novel. Nearly continuous doses of arsenic and, when that wasn't working fast enough for her, I got some major doses in the food she brought to me when I thought I was sick with the flu."

For once in his life, Danny was speechless. He just stared at Colby, his mouth hanging open slightly.

"Boy, you attract trouble like a magnet." He said, finally. Then winced when he heard the words come out of his mouth. *_Okay, that sounded better in my head._*"Sorry, I don't mean to make light of what's happened to you."

Colby let out a chortle of mirth. "It's all right. I've been lucky since the last incident and I've managed to find someone who's willing to help me through the nightmares that still plague me once in a while. Those are the worst. The nightmares. You'd think after almost a year I wouldn't be rehashing either event in my head anymore but--" He shrugged. "Not that I'm saying you'll end up with nightmares, you know?"

Danny looked down at the blanket covering his legs.

Colby leaned his head to one side a knowing look on his face. "They've already started, haven't they?"

Danny nodded, his eyes still on the blanket. Unable to meet Colby's gaze. "Doug tried to wake me up this morning and I took a swing at him, caught him on the cheek."

"At least you didn't nearly choke him to death."

That got Danny's attention. "You nearly choked someone to death?"

"Yeah." Colby's expression took on a slightly goofy look. "She didn't hold it against me, though. We've been dating ever since and she promised me, should it happen again, she'll kick my ass for me."

Danny snorted. "At least you've got someone..." A sad expression crossed his face. "Um...this'll sound really stupid but...well..." He just couldn't bring himself to ask.

"Dan or do you prefer Danny? Just spit it out, all right? I won't make fun of you or run off to call Code and tattle on you."

"When you first woke up after the...incident...what went through your mind?"

"Honestly?"

Danny nodded.

"Shock that I was alive, fear that I was going back to jail, scared to death that no one would believe my story - I was THAT deep undercover - and gratefulness to whomever pulled my cojones out of the fire."

Danny nodded. "You were scared, huh?" His voice was low, almost as if he was afraid someone else would hear them.

"Scared shitless."

Danny swallowed. "Me too. When I woke up in the other hospital. I was terrified. No one knew where I was and it didn't help matters at all when, after I ided myself, the nurse drugged me so I wouldn't.... how did she put it? Undo all the work they've already done on me."

"Yeah, medical folks get a little testy when you thrash about and mess up what they did."

"I can't tell you how happy I was when I woke up and David, Agent Sinclair, was sitting there. I didn't know his name but I saw that shield and I knew."

Colby nodded. "I can believe that. If I had woke up to an unfamiliar face but saw the badge ... even if they were standing guard on me ... I would've felt safe."

Danny fiddled with the blanket before asking his next question. He felt terrible, like he was some how violating Colby's privacy but he kept asking questions. He had to know. "You remember much of what happened before you woke up in the hospital?"

"Before the potassium shot? No. Not really, but I've seen the tape the son of a bitch made of his "interrogation" of me." Now Colby's face had taken on a hard, disgusted look before he shook it off and continued. "However, after the tape stopped and I was evacuated? Not a hell of a lot. Just bits and pieces, snatches of glimpses that to this day still don't make a lick of sense to me."

Danny shuddered. How weird to watch yourself being tortured. "I guess it's normal then." He mumbled. "I've gotten the same thing." He sighed. "I want to remember more. The more I remember the more info Abby and Don and everyone will have to catch the bastards but..." He tapped the side of his head. "it's not coming out." He made a sound that was a cross between frustration and fear. "Why can't I remember more?"

Colby shook his head. "You want to hear the psychobabble answer or just my opinion?"

Danny shrugged. "I'll take your opinion over the psychobabble."

"Right. I figure it's like this: the brain is kinda odd. The memories that have too much pain attached to them get shoved into a dark corner, never to see the light of day again. Until the subconscious thinks you're ready to handle the "bad shit" - then it springs it on you in a nightmare." He shrugged. "If you can't handle the memory in a dream, it gets shoved back into the dark recesses of the mind and the brain will try again, later, until you're able to handle the fear, the gut-wrenching, sweat-pouring, all encompassing heebeejeebes."

Danny nodded. "You said you're still getting them?"

"Yep. Not often, just enough to ruin a good night's sleep once in a while."

"What are they about?"

"All sorts of things. Sometimes it's just my mind rehashing the torture, sometimes I wake up and feel like someone's been using me as a punching bag ... other times I know someone used electric cattle prods on me. The images fade pretty fast once I'm awake and aware of where I'm at."

Danny nodded. "I think my mind is just replaying what happened. I get the feeling of being held down and then sometimes I've got this voice in my head telling me how lucky I am that he's not going to kill me." Another shudder. "And then...then...I'm getting soaked 'cause it's pouring down rain." He chanced a look at Colby. "Rain, in Southern California, who'd have thought that?" He almost smiled.

"It happens. Once in a while." Colby looked Danny in the eyes. "Look, I'm no shrink - I'll leave that to Doc Bradford - but don't try to force the memories. They'll come when it's time for you to recall them and not a moment before."

"I get that but..." Danny stopped talking, unsure of what to say next.

"Don't push it, Danny ... when the mind is ready, the memories will come."

"But how are your team and mine going to catch the bastards that did this, if I can't remember?!" Danny snapped. "This is my fault. If I hadn't been so damn eager to follow a lead, I wouldn't be here and I wouldn't have dragged my entire team through the wringer because. The least I can I do, after fucking up everything, is remember and I can't even do that!" A deep scowl appeared on his face.

"Wow, suppress much?" Colby asked, then realized being a smartass wasn't helping. "We're not entirely without leads to follow. We'll catch the bastards, you just concentrate on getting healed up." Just then there was a knock on the door and a nurse stuck her head into the room.

"Agent Granger? Can you step out for a few minutes? I need to change Agent Webster's dressings."

"Sure." Colby dug into a pocket and came up with a business card, which he handed to Danny. "Here. My cell number is on the back, if you need anything, even just to vent to a friend ... call me."

Colby stepped out of the room as the nurse came in, carrying a tray of supplies.

*****************

William Bradford quietly knocked on the door of the hospital room Agent Eppes had told him about, and stealthily entered when he didn't get any verbal response. He wasn't surprised to see Agent Webster was sound asleep, according to the man's medical records, he was on some pretty hefty painkillers and, no wonder. The young man was a wealth of contusions, and those were just the visible injuries. He let out a soft sigh as he settled into a visitor's chair, pulled out his notepad and pens and started to scribble his observations down. William had just filled the first page when he looked up and saw Agent Webster blinking like a startled owl at him.

"I see you're finally awake again, Agent Webster."

Danny eyed the man for a long moment before saying "And you are?"

"Doctor William Bradford. I'm a psychologist who specializes in helping out my fellow brothers in blue."

Danny blinked and something clicked in his mind. "Oh, you're the shrink that Colby said would be coming."

"Granger's been talking about me?" William smiled, "Surprising. Of course, with his background he was a tough nut to crack but I allowed for that."

Danny looked down at the blanket covering his legs. "He came by before you, said he wanted to give me an nonjudgmental ear to bend."

"Did you take him up on the offer at all?"

Danny shrugged. "Sort of."

William smiled gently. "Let me guess, you didn't feel all that comfortable with the idea of spilling your guts to a fellow Agent you don't know from Jack?"

Danny nodded.

"How would you feel about talking to a head shrink you don't know?"

Another shrug. "It wouldn't be my first choice."

"I understand and respect that." William packed up his notepad and pens and prepared to leave the Washington DC Agent to stew. "Of course, if you wanted to talk, I would be willing to keep it all off your records." No answer. "Fine. Hope you get to feeling better, Agent ... did your parents have a twisted sense of historical humor or what?"

Danny scowled. "Yeah. And no, I don't have a sister named Merriam." He paused then added. "Completely off the record?"

"Just you, me, the walls and that's it. I won't even write anything down."

Danny thought for a few minutes, then said 'okay' in such a low tone that Bradford had a hard time hearing him.

"Was that an 'okay' or a 'go away,' Agent?"

"Okay."

Bradford sat back down in the chair and, true to his word, put his portfolio with its legal pad and pens on the floor. "So, what would you like to talk about first, Daniel? Or do you prefer Danny?"

"Danny."

"Danny then." William just waited, patiently, knowing the young man would start when he was damn well ready and not a minute before.

"I wish I could remember what happened." Danny said, after a few minutes went by.

"Maybe you should move past that for now?" William suggested, then pushed a little bit with a factoid. "The human mind is still a lot of uncharted territory, even to professionals like me, but one thing we have learned is that when the psyche is ready the memories will return."

Danny nodded. "But if I don't remember, how are Abby and the others gonna catch the bastards that did this?!"

"Never worked a case with little or zero leads before, Danny?"

"Sure I have but that's different."

"How?"

"'Cause it didn't involve me getting the shit beaten outta me that's how."

"So this one's personal, right? And because your a 'Fed" you should've been able to provide the people working _your_ case with more . . . clues? Evidence? Even if the clues were based on faulty and distorted memories?"

"I'm the one who dragged them out here, the least I can do is remember what the hell happened." Danny replied with some vehemence.

William sat back, purposely projecting a mild shock in his body language. "Is that guilt I hear, Danny?"

"What if it is?" Danny snapped.

"Where is it coming from? And don't try to tell me it's from not being able to protect yourself, getting the crap beat out of you and 'forcing' your teammates and friends to fly all the way out here to LA to hold your hand."

It took a very long time for Danny to respond. He looked at the ceiling, he looked at the floor, he looked out the window and finally said, "Probably comes from me being stupid."

William felt his eyebrows crawl up his forehead. "Well, that's a new one to me." He schooled his expression back to neutrality. "Just how 'stupid' were you and just what made you that way?"

Danny sighed. "I flew across the country without backup to follow a lead that was more than vague."

"More than vague but less than rock solid?"

Danny nodded.

"Hmmm . . . like that's something no investigator in history has ever done. I'll give you the fact that most of them didn't fly across country to chase a lead . . . but I know one or two that drove across country to do it."

"Do they remember what they did?"

"Don't know. They never wrote it up in their memoirs." William leaned forward, making solid eye contact with Danny. "So, tell me, why did you take off without waiting for your partner or the rest of your team?"

"Because I knew I could crack this case wide open if I could just talk to my C.I., I knew it..." Danny looked away from Bradford, his face turning a bright shade of red.

"You got a problem sharing 'the glory' with Agent Miller? Or are you partnered with the new kid on the team?"

"No...that's not it! I...I..." Danny's shoulders slumped. "I don't know. It was so damn clear why when I left Friday."

William permitted a cock-eyed and wry grin to cross his lips. "Maybe the beating did some good after all. Maybe you got some common sense knocked back into that skull of yours."

The scowl was back on Danny's face. "Maybe it did." He mumbled.

"Look, Danny, I don't know you - not like your teammates do, but maybe what you need to do instead of trying to recall what happened to you here in LA is trying to recall why you felt compelled to leave your friends behind in the first place."

Danny blinked. "But wouldn't it be better if I could remember so that they could catch the guys that did this?"

William shook his head. "Nope. According to the scuttlebutt back at the offices, Team Eppes, along with your friends, are working on a couple of leads. All you really should concern yourself with is 'why' you had to get out here in such a rush and leave your team to play catch-up."

That got a couple of nods from Danny. "Okay but what's that going to do?"

"Who knows? Maybe there was something in what your CI said that will prove to be a vital clue so the healthy agents looking into your case can find the people that beat the snot out of you."

Danny fell silent, not meeting Bradford's eyes, his attention focused again on the blanket covering his legs.

Bradford took the long silence for Danny's desire to end the session. He stood up, pulled a business card from his jacket breast pocket and laid it on the bedside table. "Danny, my cell phone number is on the back, my office number will work too. If you need to talk again to someone who isn't an Agent or a friend before you head back east, feel free to call me."

"They dumped me on the side of the road." Danny said, still not looking at Bradford. "They beat me and then they dumped on the side of the road." The blanket crumpled in his hands. "They didn't want me to live to tell anyone what happened."

William leaned over and clasped Danny on the shoulder. "And you were too damn stubborn to let that kill you. That's spitting in their faces like a good FBI Agent."

A smile quirked at the corners of Danny's mouth. He looked up at Bradford and said, "You think so?"

"I know so, and I've counseled a few stubborn agents in my time."

The smile broadened. "I bet you have. I bet I've talked to a couple of them too."

"Well, you admitted to talking with Granger, but he's not the most stubborn one on that team." William straightened up and grinned like a maniac. "But I'll let you figure out who that title belongs to. Hint - it's not Reeves."

"It's Eppes, isn't it?" Danny asked.

"Since I don't have permission from the others to admit to something like that . . . Granger said I could talk about his case if you needed to know . . . I'm not at liberty to confirm nor deny that accusation, Agent Webster."

At the mention of Colby's name, a question that had been bugging Danny off and on, popped into his head. "Um...just how bad off was Colby?" Danny asked. "He told me he was still having nightmares a year later."

William sat down on the edge of Danny's bed before answering. "Real bad. Real dead. More than once. Betrayed by an old friend, dragged into a world he had a flare for, but hated every minute of …he's doing much better now. I still talk with him, and his fiancée, once a month or so as their schedules permit."

Danny swallowed. "Real dead?"

"Yeah. Took two-man CPR and no less than two shots from a defibulator to get him back from the edge of the abyss." Bradford snorted, derisively. "Not too long ago, he quoted Nietzsche to me_. I looked into the heart of the Abyss - and it looked back at me. _He's healing. Slowly."

Danny's eyes widened. "Wow. I had no idea. Man...." A quirky smile crossed his face. "Nietzsche, huh? Wow."

"Yeah, claimed he found on a book on the man's philosophy in his fiancée's home." William shook his head. "Having met the woman, I'm willing to believe him."

Danny nodded, swallowed again and said "Thanks."

"You're welcome. I'll see if I can find someone back in Washington DC who I think would be worth seeing, if you want me to?"

"I guess so. It would probably help."

"Fine. If I find someone I trust, who should I give the name to on your team? Stroud? Staunton or Miller?"

"You can give it to Abby...Stroud, it's okay...Dr. Bradford, one more question."

"Fire away. Figuratively, of course."

"What happened to Colby's friend who betrayed him?"

"You want the 'official' version or what I've since learned took place?"

"Both."

William nodded. "Officially, the man had a change of heart before they boarded the boat to China and, at the last minute, figured out a way to save Granger's life. That's the story his son will hear about his father as he grows up." He let out a sigh. "What really took place wasn't far from the official version, but the change of heart was last minute and, in both versions - - the man died right after he capped the son of a bitch who had killed Granger."

Danny's eyes popped open again. "Seriously? Damn."

"Seriously." Bradford bent down to pick his portfolio up off the floor before turning his attention back to Daniel. "All right, I'm going to tell my secretary you may just call and, if you do, she'll put you right through to me as soon as I can clear my office. In the meantime, you get some rest and heal up. You've got a passel of friends who are worried sick about you, Danny Webster."

A sad smile graced Danny's features. "Yeah, I know. I don't think I deserve them, guess I'm just lucky." He held out his hand to Bradford. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. Now I need to head back and see if I can salvage a few appointments before I hear one of my patients ended up on top of a building, taking potshots at gang members and laughing their ass off over it."

That got a laugh from Danny until his ribs protested the movement and he groaned. "Bye, Dr. Bradford."

"Adios, Agent Webster."

*****************

The air was damp with the promise of the rain at the Fullerton Arboretum. So far, that's all it was, a promise. If Doug and David were very lucky, they could track down Danny's Confidential Informant, talk to the man and leave before the darkening sky made good on the promise. A stiff breeze tugged at Doug's collar as he followed David across the parking lot and into the main entrance. Despite Danny's assurances to the contrary, Doug didn't have much hope of finding the C.I. This was his and David's second trip to the arboretum and he didn't think the second trip would be any more successful than the first.

"I don't think I've ever worked a case with this many potential dead ends ... art cases are usually filled with potential leads." Doug said.

"When was the last time you had a fellow agent beaten?" David asked, scanning the area they were in the Arboretum.

"On my current team? Never. My first team out of Quantico? At least one - me."

David looked at him. "What happened?"

"Couple of mooks in Kalamazoo thought it would be real fun to jump a 'drunk' coming out of a very posh restaurant. I had to let them kick my not-drunk ass long enough for my backup to arrive ... ended up with a shiner and a split lip that Claire, my wife, just about had a fit when she saw me."

David winced. "Man...did you, at least, get a conviction out of it?"

"Yeap. Of course, Mook number one's trial had to wait until he was healed up." Doug Miller's smile was nearly feral.

David chuckled. "I just bet." He frowned, noticing someone who wasn't a tourist, walking into his field of vision. He nudged Doug and said, "Take a look at that guy."

Doug followed David's line of vision and studied the man. Average height, brown hair, hoodie, and jeans. It wasn't so much the clothes that had attracted his attention it was the man's behavior. His head moving this way and that, paying no attention to his surroundings. He seemed to be *looking* for someone.

"Not exactly blending in with the usual crowd, is he?" David asked.

Doug nodded. "Does he look like he might have information if we asked the 'right' questions?"

"Maybe." David studied the man.

"Your call, Sinclair ... I'll run interference and block if needed."

David nodded. "Let's see what our slacker friend here has to say." He turned and walked toward the man.

Doug nodded, then angled away from the track Sinclair was taking ... just in case the slime ball decided to rabbit.

"Sir?" David called out to the man, holding out his badge. "I'm Agent David Sinclair with the FBI. I'd like to ask you a couple of questions."

Whatever the man had been looking for, Feds were not it. Doug let out a 'damn it' as the guy made like a startled jackrabbit and bolted away from Sinclair.

"Crap." David muttered, taking off after the man.

Luckily for both Agents the guy didn't know the area and Doug was able to place himself in the guy's path, body checking him to the ground. "The Agent said he had questions for you, sir." He reached down and pulled the fellow to his feet just as David slid to a stop behind him

The man groaned.

"Damn, Doug, you're fast." David said.

"End Tackle...we had to be fast to chase down the running backs."

David snorted.

He got a good look at the guy, now that Doug had a nice firm grip on him and it confirmed his suspicions. If the man didn't have anything to do with Danny's attack, he was probably guilty of something. "Let's try this again. I'm Agent David Sinclair, of the FBI. I've got a couple of questions for you."

"Yeah, well, I didn't do nuthing. Get this ape off me!"

"If you didn't do anything, then why'd you run?" David asked the obvious question.

"Wasn't sure who you were and I might have ... crossed the wrong folks who wouldn't be too happy to see me."

David gave him a look.

Doug snorted, he'd heard that type of story from every crook he'd ever busted from Kalamazoo to Washington DC.

"You cross a lot of people who look like me and id themselves as the FBI?"

"Well.... no."

"Listen bub…" Doug started, then stopped. This, technically, was David's case, not his.

"So, why'd you run?" David tried again.

"I don't like cops, all right? Especially feds, okay?"

"Why not? We're nice guys, really, aren't we Agent Miller?"

"Sure are, Agent Sinclair. Really nice guys who, if this guy is really nice to us, will let him go without running a check for wants and warrants with the locals."

"Oh man ... what do you want?"

David pulled a picture of Danny from his inside coat pocket and held it out to the man. "You ever seen this guy before?"

"Maybe...not real sure. What's he wanted for?"

"None of your beeswax, mister. Have you seen him?" Doug practically growled.

"Maybe...over the weekend. Can't really recall but it might have been Friday, maybe Saturday night." The skel smiled a sickly smile, "I was kinda flying, ya know?"

David sighed. "Okay, Dumbo, push past the Pink Elephants and try and think, can you do that?"

"Yeah, yeah ... he was in one of those Ford Bull cars, green, looked like he was waiting for someone so I didn't bother him too much. He parked in two places." Skel pointed out an area close to the entrance to the Arboretum, "First there and then WAY the hell over there." He pointed at a distant section. "He was still there when I had to duck inside to take a piss, but gone when I came back."

"You see anyone else with him?" David asked.

"Nah ... dude was alone. Trawling probably. And not for female companionship, ya know what I mean?"

Doug growled and wrenched the guy's arm up behind his head from where he'd been holding it near the waistline. "That DUDE is my little brother, asshole. WATCH yer mouth."

David put up a hand. "Easy there, we kinda need him in one piece Agent Miller."

"YOU might, Sinclair ... I just want to teach him a lesson or two in manners." He pushed up another fraction of a centimeter on the guy's elbow, just enough to make the guy yelp in distress.

"Look, we're on my turf and I'm the one who's gonna get stuck with the paperwork and I'm not in the mood." David told Doug.

Doug let out a over exaggerated sigh of frustration, let go of the guy and stalked a few paces away, where he stood in brooding silence, his arms crossed over his 54" chest looking like he just wanted an 'excuse' to shoot the guy David was talking to.

"Sorry about that...he's a little touchy about his baby brother. You don't tell me everything you remember and I'm going to let him come back and finish. Got it?" David told the skel.

"Yeah, yeah..., just keep him away from me."

"You keep cooperating and you got no problems."

"As much as I can, man.... I really didn't see much, okay?"

David nodded. "How long were you in the john?"

"Five, maybe seven minutes..."

"Okay, you got a name?"

"Yeah, Gerald. Gerald DeProm."

"If we have any other questions for you, are we going to have to hunt you down?"

"Nah, I live in the Fullerton Apartments behind the Arboretum. Building C, number 5 on the ground floor."

"Okay." David fished a business card out of his coat pocket and handed it to DeProm. "You think of anything else, give me a holler."

"You really ain't going to run a wants check on me?" Gerald asked as he pocketed the card.

David quirked an eyebrow at the man. "Should I?"

"Nah ... it'll just show up on the logs and then I'd have to explain to my Parole officer why I was cornered by the feds."

"Okay, then." David grinned. "Thank you so much for your cooperation."

"No problem ... Apologize to Agent Miller for me will ya? I didn't mean no disrespect but guys who look like his brother, trawling the parking lots after sundown ... they're usually looking for male proz or to score crystal, ya know?" Gerald waved, then trotted off at a half-jog delving deeper into the Arboretum's luscious park-like area.

Doug came back over to where David stood, still irritated but under control. "Well?"

"Doug, can I ask you one thing first?" David said.

"Sure."

"The next time you want to rip a suspect's arm out of his socket, could you at least warn me?"

Doug stared at David for a long moment before letting out a snort of derision. He shrugged. "Okay. Now, what'd you get?"

"I'll tell you on the way back to the car." David said, "It's not much."

"Every little bit helps." Doug replied, following the younger man back to the car.

**************

It happened so fast that Abby wasn't even sure it had actually happened to her. One minute she was standing at Don's desk, waiting for him to finish making a phone call, the next, his hand was under her elbow and he was guiding her to his chair. "Abby? What's wrong?"

"Nothing." She shook her head and the room tilted a little.

"Colby!" Don bellowed in the direction of the video room.

Colby appeared in the doorway. "Yeah?"

"Get over here."

"I'm fine." She said, trying to stand up but Don's hand settled on her shoulder and she couldn't budge.

"What's wrong?" Colby asked Don.

Don relayed what he had just witnessed and Colby crouched down in front of Abby. "You know, when the King of Stubborn calls you on being stubborn yourself, you've really had it." He told her, taking her wrist in his hand, checking her pulse.

She scowled. Although she had just met Colby and liked him, she didn't appreciate being teased about something so minor.

"When was the last time you had an actual meal?" Colby asked.

"I had breakfast this morning." Abby told him. She did NOT tell him that she had picked at the meal.

"Uh-huh. And just how much of it did you eat?"

"Not enough apparently." She muttered.

"The vending machines cooperating today?" Colby asked Don.

"Yeah, I think they are. What do you need?" Don asked.

"A soda and a bag of chips. That'll be enough to get her blood sugar back up."

Don flashed Abby a smile. "Back in a moment."

"I'm fine." She told Colby and again started to get up from the chair. This time it was Colby's hand on her shoulder. "Abby, look at me for a moment."

She did. It was eerie how much he looked like his brother. "You're not fine. You will be as soon as you get something eat but right now, you're not going anywhere, so just sit there, okay?" He told her.

A flush of embarrassment swept across her face. _It's a good thing Doug isn't here. _

In short order, Don came back with the requested items and set them before Abby. "Service with a smile. Not everyone around here gets delivery service." He said to her.

Colby stood, stretched his legs and said "Disaster averted, for the moment."

Although she was loath to admit it, she did feel a little better after drinking some of the soda and munching on the chips. _Yes, it's a very good thing Doug isn't here._

But even that kind of luck disappeared, when Doug and David stepped off the elevator a few moments later. Even from by the elevator, Abby could tell that Doug knew something was up.

He came over to Don's desk, took in the scene and asked, "Okay, what happened?"

"I was just a little lightheaded, that's all." Abby said. "I'm fine."

"Uh-huh and the bitch really did set Marion Berry up." Doug replied.

The three other men tried to hide their smiles but it was hard. "Just how much breakfast did she eat?" Colby asked. "Her blood sugar level had to have dropped like a rock for her to get that lightheaded."

"Not a whole lot." Doug replied. He crouched down in front of Abby. "You're not doing yourself any good, you know. Just how are you going to find out what happened to Danny, if you get slapped into the hospital next to him, hmm?"

"At least then I could keep an eye on him." She snapped. "I've had a lot on my mind."

He nodded. "We all have but that doesn't mean you stop eating. Lord, what am I supposed to tell Asst. Director Cummins, hmm? 'Sorry Director, she wouldn't eat.'"

A new flush of heat flamed across Abby's face. "That's low, Miller."

"It's true, Stroud." He looked at the soda and the chips, then at his watch. "Time for lunch." He stood and looked at Colby. "Can she get up now?"

Colby checked Abby's pulse, then nodded.

"Finally." Abby muttered.

"Where's that place we got lunch from yesterday?" Doug asked.

"They're two blocks down on the right." Colby told him.

Doug offered his arm to Abby. "May I take you to lunch, Agent Stroud?"

She gave him a _look_ before taking his arm. "Yes, you may Agent Miller." She almost smiled but not quite.

"Take all the time you need." Don called after them.

Doug nodded and the two agents walked to the elevator.

*****************

The sun was rapidly sliding towards the horizon and yet, the combined teams of Eppes and Stroud were not much further along in the investigation than they had been that morning. Doug stood up from the table he had been sorting the witness statements, such as they were, and stretched. A man his size just couldn't sit still for very long at a table without needing to move. While he stretched, his eyes roamed the bullpen, searching for one particular person. He didn't see her. With a frown, he reached for his cell phone. Instead of running all over the building to look for her, he'd just call.

"If you wanted to know where I was, all you had to was look." Abby said, at his shoulder.

Doug twisted around and saw Abby standing there, a half smile on her face. "I was in the break room."

"Looking for something to eat?" Doug asked.

She made a face at him. "No, believe it or not, the chairs are more comfortable in there."

He shrugged. "I can try." He looked over at the A-V room where Colby was seated in front of the video displays, reviewing all security tapes that had been collected. "Come with me." He put a hand on her shoulder. "Let's help out a fellow agent." He steered her toward the A-V room.

Abby looked from Doug to Colby and agreed. "I need something to do."

The two agents walked into the A-V room and greeted Colby. He raised a hand in greeting but did not take his eyes from the multiple screens.

"We have come to help." Doug said. "Six eyes are better than just two ... even if those two have a hell of a reputation. Wouldn't you agree, Granger?"

Colby nodded. "Absolutely, Doug. Just give a quiet shout out if you see something and need me to replay a section." He sat back for a second and palmed his eyes before restarting the three tapes he was going through simultaneously.

Time passed in a blur almost as fast as the images on the screen.

Colby looked up from the monitors when someone knocked on the door of the AV Lab. There, on the other side of the glass was a tall, gorgeous, dark haired woman. He held up a hand toward her, then turned his attention back to Doug and Abby. "I'll be right back, visitor."

Doug watched as Colby put the playbacks on pause before getting up from the chair and leaving the room. The woman on the other side of the door just nodded her head to one side and the two of them disappeared toward a nearby stairwell. "She's cute. Think Granger's got a honey?" He mused aloud, not expecting Abby to comment.

She shrugged. "He might. I'd be surprised if he didn't. He's cute."

Doug smiled at her, "Does Joel know you look at guys like that?" He shook his head, "Never mind. Did you notice the way she carried herself? Maybe the LA office is more forgiving about agents dating if they're not in the same division?"

"The question to ask is do I know if Joel looks at women like that?" Abby grinned. "What makes you think she's a Fed?"

"Packing Heat on the right hip. You didn't notice?"

"No. She could be military or any kind of LEO."

Just then Colby walked back into the room, his hands filled with various take out containers. "She's a Fed, just not FBI. She also brought dinner."

Doug's eyes popped open. "Wow. What section?"

"If I said she was at Camp Pendleton would that give you a clue?"

Abby looked at the take out containers and felt her stomach turn over. Ever since she had gotten to LA, it had been tough to eat, tough to sleep, tough to do what she had to do, her stomach so bound up in knots with worry.

Doug nodded. "Marine. NCIS?"

Colby stopped in mid motion and stared at Doug. "Okay, NCIS was a common enough guess... but howinthehell did you guess she's also a Marine?"

Doug frowned for a moment. "What else is at Camp Pendleton?"

He shook his head, then handed Abby a bottle of orange juice. "I had Lena get this especially for you, Abby. Drink up." Then he turned back to Doug. "Well, she's on the only Marine on her team … the Doc's a Navy man, her second in command is former Navy and she's got two strictly Civilians as well."

A nod from Doug. He looked at Abby and specifically pulled out a chair for her. "Now, you are going to eat and not just push the food around on the plate, got it? Don't make me tell Joel on you."

"Fine ... but I'm not really in the mood to eat."

Colby nodded and gestured at the OJ in her hand. "Which is why Lena brought that directly from Naval Hospital at Camp Pend. Taste it."

Abby did and nearly spit it out again. "Aergh, that's too damn sweet."

Doug snorted. "Try not to spit on the electronics, boss."

"So add it to a can of Sprite, but, trust me, you need it as well as a decent meal."

"Where's the vending machine again?" Doug asked, fishing in his pockets for change.

Colby pointed out the machines and waited until Doug left before pulling out his 'secret weapon' to get her to eat. "Abby, eat what is in front of you or eat this," he plunked the bar down in front of her, "but the food is a much better choice."

Abby looked at the plainly wrapped item before picking it up and looking at the very generic label. "Emergency ration bar?" She shuddered and shoved it back at him, snagging something that looked like Moo-Goo Gai Pan, a mild chicken and veggie dish. "No thanks, I'll eat what's in front of me."

Colby smiled and tucked the E-Rat bar back into his cargo pant's pocket before snagging his favorite - General Tso's Chicken. "You're lucky it's me and not my girl ... Lena's down right scary when she wants to be. Or when she's coming at you, full tilt, with a sword and shield." He used his chopsticks to pull a piece of spicy chicken out of his carton, then used it to point at Abby's, yet untouched, carton. "Eat."

"You always this pushy?" Abby asked, reluctantly forking a mouthful of food up to her mouth.

"Eat at least half of what is in there or find out." Colby promised just as Doug came back in the room with the Sprite and a 16oz plastic cup.

"She giving you a hard time, Colby?" Doug asked, putting the Sprite and cup in front of Abby.

"Nope."

Abby just glared at Colby. "You play dirty, anyone ever tell you that?"

"Yeah, my brothers. Usually when I've beaten them at something."

"How many?" Doug asked, helping himself to the Sweet and Sour Chicken.

Colby grinned. "You mean other than Cody who works down the hall from ya'll? Two more."

"Yeah, I meant other than Cody. Although I would have thought having him would've cured anyone of wanting more." Doug said, with a totally straight face, making Abby choke on her food.

"Nah, my folks stopped with me." His grin turned even more snarky, if that was possible. "They realized they'd finally gotten it right with me."

"Ah, I see you provide the humor." Doug said, slapping Abby on the back. "You're just bucking to wind up in the hospital with Danny, aren't you?" He said to her.

"No ... but will you two quit *cough* making me choke on laughter?"

"It's all right, I'm certified to perform the Heimlich." Colby offered as Abby took a sip of her OJ/Sprite mixture.

Doug watched Abby drink. "Better?"

"Yes. Damn it, Granger, you're as deadly as Cody. I've learned not to eat around him too." And, with that, Abby got up, taking her carton with her, and walked to the back of the room to sit on a convenient sofa, where she applied herself to her meal.

Once they were done eating, Colby made it a priority to gather up the empty cartons and, yes, checked to make sure Abby had really eaten at least half of the Moo Goo Gai Pan. Surprisingly, she'd managed to finish two-thirds of her food, maybe a tad more, and all of the hyper sweet orange juice and the first can of Sprite. In fact, she was working on a new can of the lemon-lime soda as she and Doug started back in on the reviewing of the tapes.

"Thanks for the dinner, Colby." Doug said.

"Not a problem ... gave me a chance to touch base with Lena before she heads back to her job."

"Lena? Nice name." Doug replied.

"It's a nickname--" Before he could explain further, the phone in the AV Lab rang out, even as Abby's cell phone started to trill. "AV Lab, Granger."

"Stroud ... yes, George? He did what?!" She suddenly was on her feet, looking for something.

Doug exchanged glances with Colby. Whatever had happened, it couldn't be good.

"Yeah ... okay, right. I'll make sure--" Colby looked at Abby who was clearly agitated. "I think she knows. Bye."

Abby had started to pat down her pockets and, with a small noise of triumph, came up with the keys to the rental car. "I'll be there as soon as I can." She slapped the phone closed and started to walk toward the exit, only to be stopped by both men.

"And just where do you think you're going?" Doug asked. "What happened to Danny?"

Abby was having trouble forming the words, so Colby jumped in with what little he knew. "Webster was just wheeled in for emergency surgery. Something about a rib gave way and punctured a lung?"

Doug's eyes popped open. He held out his hand. "Give me the keys, Abby. I'll drive."

Abby started to hand Doug the keys, only to have Colby intercept them. "Wrong. Neither of you are driving. Come on, I'll get you there and walk back. The hospital staff called for Don, but got me instead . . . Let me tell him where we're going before we leave." Colby, and the keys, disappeared, leaving Doug and Abby to cool their heels for two minutes before he came back. "Done. Let's go."

Doug put his arm around Abby. "He'll be fine." He soothed.

The drive time from the FBI office to Cedars took a little over 30 minutes ... it would've been faster but he was driving a rental, not his departmental Charger. He let them out at the main entrance, parked in a spot not too far from the hospital then made a phone call as he walked back into the hospital to give the keys back to the DC team. He was just finishing up his conversation when Doug met him at the elevators outside of surgery. "Thanks, I'll be back down stairs as soon as you text me." Colby hung up and looked at the older agent. "Any word on Webster, Miller?"

"It's not as bad as it could've been." Doug told him. "Apparently, he slipped or tripped or something like that and landed on the bed the wrong way."

Colby nodded. "Didn't he already have cracked ribs?"

Doug nodded. "Part of the original injuries. Three cracked ribs."

"He probably just finished the job by landing on them. Painful as hell, but survivable. Where's your other team member, the young one who can't seem to string more than a few words together around me?"

Doug chuckled. "George? Aw...he's harmless, really. He's down in the waiting room with Abby. I get the fun job of calming them both down." He paused. "You wouldn't happen to have any tranquilizers, would you?" He was only half-kidding.

Colby made it a point to 'pat' himself down, then shrugged. "Sorry, fresh out." He pulled his cell phone out again and hit one button on it. "Let me give Don an update ... he'll probably order us all home. Well, not your team but-- Hey, Don, it's Colby....." He walked away to get out of the flow of hallway traffic, and to get a little privacy, leaving Doug to go back to the waiting room where he found both Abby and George pacing like caged and restless felines.

Colby finished his call with Don Eppes and, not at all surprisingly, Eppes HAD ordered his agent home to rest up. Doug didn't blame the man, if he was here looking at Granger, he would've seen the same thing Doug was seeing - a worn out man who was clearly fighting off a headache. The wait was fairly companionable even if George wouldn't sit down for more than a minute before bouncing back to his feet to renew his pacing.

Granger's phone trilled out and, after looking at the screen, bid them adieu and said that he'd see them in the morning. Curious, Doug watched out the waiting room window, which looked out over the main entrance, and a few minutes later was rewarded with the sight of Granger getting into a dark blue SUV of some sort. The driver was partially obscured, but a glimpse of long dark hair was possible through the windshield and Doug chuckled as he realized the NCIS Agent 'Lena' had come back for Granger.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Three hours later, the double doors to the surgical suites opened and a tall man with brilliant red hair peeking out from under his scrub cap came out. Being as Abby and her team were the only people in the waiting room, he came directly over to them.

He stopped in front of Abby and said, "You're with Agent Webster?"

She nodded, her heart in her throat.

"How is he, doctor?" Doug asked.

"He'll be all right. As long he doesn't make any more unscheduled trips around his bed." He held out his hand to Abby. "I'm Dr. Nate Holgate."

Abby nodded and shook hands with him, introducing herself and her team as she did.

"I take it I need to speak with one of you about future medical care and treatment of Agent Webster?"

Abby nodded and stood up. "That's correct. I have his power of attorney."

"Okay, I won't be picky and ask to see proof right now but . . . Agent Webster came through the surgery like a real champ. He's in recovery and will soon be transferred back up to his room." Dr. Holgate told them.

Abby let go the breath she had been holding.

"When can we see him?" Doug asked.

"Tomorrow." Dr. Holgate said.

"Why not tonight?" Abby asked.

"Because he won't be awake tonight." Dr. Holgate replied. He glanced over at the clock on the wall behind Abby. "By the time he comes out of recovery and gets back to his room, it will be close to 11 p.m., long after visiting hours are over." He flashed them a tired smile. "And I, for one, do NOT want to get on the charge nurse's bad side. Go back to your hotel, come back in the morning."

"I can't leave, Doctor. Until he wakes up, or if his parents mysteriously show up this evening, I'm in charge of making sure he doesn't spill state secrets." Abby smiled. "Baring that, I need to be on hand in case he somehow recalls who beat the snot out of him in the first place. He didn't talk while he was under, did he?"

Dr. Holgate quirked an eyebrow and gave her a 'You're kidding, right?' look. "No, Agent Stroud, he did not."

"Good. However, that changes nothing, I'm staying." Abby crossed her arms and leveled her most serious gaze at Dr. Holgate.

Dr. Holgate returned the look, then let his gaze drifted over to Doug and George. "All right, you can stay Agent Stroud. However, the rest of you...go rest. You can see your teammate in the morning. And, Agent Stroud?" She looked at him. "You can stay until Webster is out of recovery and then, young lady, You ARE going to go back to your hotel or motel and getting some sleep. Got it?"

She nodded, then looked over at George and Doug. "Go on guys, I'll get a cab."

Doug nodded, "Fine. But you call me when he's out and you're on the way to the hotel." He clasped George by the shoulders and steered the younger agent out of the waiting room. "Come on, George. The Boss has spoken and you must obey."

George nodded. "I hear and obey."

Abby waited until both men were out of earshot before turning back to Dr. Holgate. "Doc, just how badly did Danny set himself back?" She asked.

"Not as bad as it could've been. Even the lung puncture wasn't as bad as it could have been and the broken ribs went back together with only a few added, stainless steel, parts."

The beginnings of a smile quirked at the corners of Abby's mouth. "Stainless steel? Does this mean he might set off metal detectors?"

Dr. Holgate smiled then shook his head. "No, he won't. I was tempted to use the steel, but I went with a few new devices. Ceramic clips and screws."

"He'll be so disappointed." Abby deadpanned.

"Only until he gets his first dose of post-op pain killers, then I doubt he'll care much about anything." Dr. Holgate quipped.

"Better living through pharmaceuticals."

"The only way to fly sometimes. Agent Stroud, let's get you back to Recovery where I can check on Agent Webster and you can sit with him until he's moved."

"Thanks, Doc."


	6. Chapter 6

**Act Five**

The next morning, both teams were deep into sifting and sorting all the information collected thus far in Danny's case when, first, Abby's phone, then Doug's rang. A look of surprise, followed by one of shock crossed Abby's face, then Doug's. All work came to a halt as the others waited for the conversations to end. Abby hung up first, followed by Doug. They exchanged embarrassed glances before Abby spoke.

"That was my boyfriend, Joel." She said. "He's at LAX."

"Boyfriend?" Don asked. He looked at Doug. "And yours was?"

"My wife, Claire. She came out with Joel." Doug replied.

"Claire's here?" George asked. "Cool! Danny'll be thrilled to see her."

Don looked from Abby to Doug and back to Abby. "Moral support?" He asked her.

"I hope so. If he's here for anything else, he can get back on the plane and head back to D.C." Abby replied, meeting Don's gaze.

"The same goes for Claire." Doug said.

"They were calling to let us know they were here and could one of us possibly come and get them." Abby said.

A smile quirked at the corners of Don's mouth. He looked down at his watch then back up at Abby. "It's about time for lunch. How about you two go and pick up your people and be back here at one. That work for you?"

Abby nodded. "That works real well. Thanks."

"Don't forget to get something to eat." Colby said.

Abby shot him the nastiest look possible but Doug settled a hand on her shoulder forestalling any further comments she might have made.

"I'll make sure we get something." Doug told him.

The two agents left without saying another word.

**********************

"Douglas Theodore Miller!" Claire's voice reached Doug's ear from across the baggage carousel room.

Doug spun around at the sound of his name, his face breaking out in a smile. "There she is, my Wild Irish Rose."

Abby spotted Joel standing next to Claire and broke into a smile herself.

Claire marched across the baggage carousel room with Joel trailing in her wake. She took her husband's chin in her hand and eyed the greenish, purplish, yellowish bruise around his left eye. "What happened?"

"Nice to see you too, Babe. Good flight?" Doug asked.

"Don't change the subject on me, what the hell happened?"

"I did a dumb thing and tried waking Danny up from a nightmare. He panicked and took a swing at me." Doug said, looking down at his wife.

"Looks like he connected too." Joel observed from over Claire's shoulder.

Doug nodded. "He did. He was really sorry and real embarrassed. Hell, I'm the one who should be embarrassed. I know better."

"Serves you right then." Claire quipped before pulling Doug into a hard embrace. "Maybe you just needed a firm reminder on what not to do and Danny was chosen to deliver the reminder."

Doug returned the embrace. "Danny's always kept me on the straight and narrow. God, I'm glad to see you."

She released him and looked up into his eyes. Doug and Abby had looked tired from across the carrousel, up close? They looked worse. "I would've been out here sooner, but I couldn't leave Alex in the lurch - not with a trip to Thailand coming up."

He nodded. "I understand Babe." He looked at Joel. "You snuck off from the Secret Service?"

"Nope. Requested time off and made sure my team was ready to cover my absence." Joel held out a hand in greeting, the one that wasn't wrapped around Abby's waist, and Doug clasped it. "How're you doing, Doug?"

"Like I've been driven hard and put away wet." Doug said, returning the handshake. He looked at Abby. "I know that Abby is as happy to see you as I am to see Claire."

"Just think of Claire and myself as the team's personal cheer-up squad. We talked it over on the flight here - we're going to hound all of you into taking.... how did you put it, Claire?" Joel looked at Doug's wife who immediately answered.

"Proper and total care of yourselves, since you can't be trusted to do so on your own."

Doug snorted. "Some of us more than others."

And got a nasty look from Abby in return.

Nearly everyone took to snickering at Abby's disgusted look, until Claire suddenly sobered up and started looking around the area. "Hate to break this fun-fest up but . . . where's the loo?"

Abby, reluctantly, unwrapped her arm from around Joel's waist. "I saw one when we came in but you'll never find it unless I show it you." She gave him a light kiss on the lips. "Back in a couple of minutes." She looked at Claire. "Follow me."

Claire shook her head. "No, no. Just point me in the general direction, Abby. I'm sure Doug can clear a path for me." She looked over at Doug, "Just pretend we're doing a Quarterback Sneak and get me through the defensive line, dearest."

Doug snorted. "Like the Day after Christmas sales?"

"Exactly! Only, this time, don't leave people laying on the floor in our wake. This isn't our home turf." She smiled and then pointed her personal Doberman in the direction indicated by Abby, and dropped in behind Doug's wide-shouldered form and stuck there until he reached the doorway to the ladies room.

In spite of it all, Abby had to laugh. Bless them both for coming out. She looked at Joel and wrapped her arms around him, holding him tight, resting her head on that little hollow right at his collarbone. She blinked and tried not to cry. "Have I said yet how happy I am that you came out?" But as she held on to him, listening as his heart beat steadily and gently, she felt her iron will crumble to dust, the first tears slipped past her control and the silent flood began.

Joel was a little unnerved but held onto Abby as her body heaved and jerked with the sudden tears. He'd never seen her like this. She was usually so damn strong that it was like pulling a confession from a tight-lipped perp to get her to even admit that a case was bothering her.

"Joel...you wouldn't believe..." Abby tried talking but she couldn't, she was crying too hard.

"Talk to me, babe." He cajoled her as he slowly walked, rocking her, backwards toward the line of seats he'd spotted earlier. She was still trying to regain her composure when the seats touched the back of his legs and he sat down, pulling her into his lap. "Come on, Kitten . . . tell me what's got you so worked up."

"I...I...I don't know where to start..." Abby mumbled, a fresh wave of tears soaking the front of Joel's shirt.

"Want me to guess?" He gently tipped her head back and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. "It has to do with Danny, right?"

She nodded.

"Not the case around him though . . . just what happened to him." He tried not to chuckle when her eyes flew open and stared into his. "Kitten, it wasn't all that hard to guess what has you in tears. You've never had an agent under your command get hurt before, have you?"

She looked at Joel for a long moment, then shook her head. "I feel just so totally helpless."

"That's normal, babe." He kissed her on the tip of her nose, then managed to fish a Kleenex out of his jacket pocket and wiped her face dry before handing the tissue to her. "You are in no way 'responsible' for what happened to Daniel. You feel guilty because you weren't here with him - which might, MIGHT mind you, have prevented his assault in the first place." He pulled her into a tighter embrace. "But think about this . . . if you HAD been here, you would probably be in the room next to his or worse."

She swallowed and nodded. "But I would have been there." She mumbled.

Joel let her lean back a little, but kept his arms around her. "Abigail . . . if you had been here, there's a damn good chance the sonsofbitches who beat Danny up would've just shot both of you. I just found you, don't be in such a rush to give your life away, okay?"

She looked up at him and smiled. "Well, you could always nurse me back to health." She wiggled her eyebrows.

"If you lived, I'd take a leave of absence to take care of you. But I'm not into necromancy, so resurrection is not an option." He quipped in return.

She thought on what he said, wrinkling her nose when she realized what he meant. "Me either." She sighed. "Joel, Danny looks like absolute hell and we haven't clue as to who did it."

He pulled her close again and just held her in his arms. Enjoying the feel of her warm body against his, thankful she was here and not in a hospital bed. "I didn't think he'd look like a Hollywood star, Kitten. You said there's a local Major Crime team working Danny's case? Are they good enough for you?"

She nodded. "They're good, damn good. You'd approve of them."

"All right then." He spotted Doug and Claire coming back, and craned his head to try to see where George had gotten off to. "Looks like Claire got her update and Doug didn't sugar coat it. She looks pissed."

Abby snorted. "We might as well go home. Claire's here and she's pissed, that's all the protection Danny needs."

Joel chuckled as he helped Abby back to her feet before standing up. "Never underestimate the power of a mad Irish woman."

She nodded. "God, I'm glad you came." She hugged him fiercely.

"I wanted to come out earlier . . . but I had to clear my desk and then, well, Claire approached me with the idea of a 'support team' coming out here and viola!" Joel smiled as he picked up his overnight bag and the garment bag from the place he'd dropped them earlier.

George reappeared at Doug's side with an impish grin on his youthful face. "Let's not dawdle, folks. I used my FBI clout and we're double-parked right outside the baggage terminal."

"George, I've got to send you out more often." Abby told him.

"Yes, you do, Agent Stroud." He reached out and politely relieved Claire of a bag, then Joel lost his garment bag to the agent. "If you all would just follow me?" He seemed to revel in the role of chauffeur.

Abby exchanged looks with everyone else, then followed her youngest team member out the door.

The mystery of how young George had pulled off a minor miracle at an international airport that wasn't in his jurisdiction was solved the moment they walked out the door. She was wearing the uniform of the LAX Police Department, she was young, and pretty, and George was openly flirting with her as he stowed the luggage in the trunk. His smile, which had been bright before, was blinding when he got in behind the wheel.

Abby started to laugh as the car pulled away from the curb. "NOW, I know how you did it. Just turn on the charm, hmm, Staunton?"

"Yes, ma'am." He kept his eyes on the road and one hand on the wheel as he pulled a business card out of his shirt pocket and showed everyone the handwritten name and number on the back. Just not long enough for anyone to catch the name scribed there. "Got her name, her number and the fact that she'll be in DC in the fall."

He'd tucked the card away before anyone could snag it.

Abby's eyebrows went up. "You've been watching Doug, haven't you?"

George nodded in agreement before responding as he merged onto the main road leading away from LAX. "Yes'em. That and I had a bit of a talk with Agent Reeves."

"And what did she tell you?" Abby was intrigued to say the least.

"That I had to learn to use, and be willing to use, all my 'assets' in the line of duty."

Doug chuckled. "So you finally listened to me, hmm, George?"

"It's just like you've been telling me, Doug. By the way, Bernie will be needing a tour guide when she comes out to DC...any chance I can get a week off around then, Boss?" He looked at Abby in the rearview mirror and, by God, actually batted his eyes at her in a most hysterical manner that had her cracking up.

"Bernie?" Abby said, between giggles "Her name is Bernie? What's that short for? Beatrice?"

"Bernadette, actually. Bernadette Petersen." George paused just long enough to have the realization sink in then, "And, yes, her parents named her after the actress you're thinking of. Which is why she prefers Bernie."

"I don't blame her." Doug muttered.

"I dunno, Doug . . . I think Bernie, even Bernadette, fits Officer Petersen just fine. Just like her uniform." George said, a smile on his face.

Joel, sitting in the front passenger seat, reached over and tapped the young FBI Agent on the shoulder. "Eyes on the road, Junior. Fantasize later."

"MUCH later, George." Claire rejoined from the backseat next to Abby.

"As for time off in the fall, ask me closer to the time she'll be there. What's going to bring her to D.C.?" Abby asked.

"You know . . . she didn't say." George decided that would probably be a good question to ask Bernie when he talked to her later that week. "I'll ask when I call her. Tomorrow. That shouldn't appear too eager or, worse, pathetic, would it?"

"Nah." Joel replied. He looked over his shoulder at Abby. "That's about as long as I waited, right Abby?"

She nodded, then yawned a huge, jaw-popping yawn. "Excuse me." she said.

Doug looked at Joel, trying to communicate his concerns without words. "Sounds like someone could use a nap . . . or, barring that, an early night."

Joel nodded. "Not a problem with me."

"Well, it might be with Don." Abby said. "We told him that we'd be back at the Federal Building at one."

"After getting lunch." Doug added.

Both Claire and Joel noticed the significant looks that shot back and forth between Abby and Doug but they said nothing. When it was time, they would learn.

"Don is the head of the Major Crimes team that's working Danny's case." Doug said, in way of explanation to Claire and Joel. "He is great and the rest of his team…I tell you, if I wasn't working for Abby and I could get a guarantee to work under him, I'd transfer out here." He paused for a moment, adding. "With my lovely wife's permission of course."

Claire gave the most un-ladylike snort. "Of course. Well, Alex told me that if I happen to see Agent Eppes that I was to say 'hi'. He must be great at his job for her to remember him."

"Guys?" George asked. "It's 12:30. We need to get something to eat and then get back to Federal Building. Any suggestions?"

"And what are you going to do with us?" Joel asked. "I certainly don't want to be seen as stepping on a fellow fed's toes."

"We will eat, take you two to the hospital to see Danny and when we're done for the day, be back to pick you up." Abby said. "George, you remember where that restaurant with the really good Mexican food David told us about this morning is?"

George nodded. "I think so. If not, I can always stop and ask."

"A man who stops and asks for directions?" Claire said, aiming a sly look at her husband. "Why I'm shocked, just shocked. I had no idea that such a creature existed."

Doug colored but said nothing.

After lunch, which George did NOT have to ask directions in order to find, the group piled back into the car and headed to Cedar-Sinai Hospital. The ride from the restaurant to the hospital was filled with companionable silence punctured occasionally by conversation.

"We surprised you two but good, didn't we?" Claire asked Doug. "That was only partially intentional."

"Partially?" Doug looked at his wife.

"She means that I was going to call and tell Abby that I was coming out." Joel said from the front seat.

"Until I decided to come along and he didn't get a chance to call because he had to keep me out of trouble." Claire said.

Doug looked even harder at his wife. "And why did he need to keep you out of trouble?"

Claire smiled a grim smile and said, "You know I'm not the world's greatest traveler at the best of times and this most _certainly_ was NOT the best of times."

"It also didn't help that the TSA yahoos at National decided to make Claire go through the whole security screening." Joel said. "Up to, and including, having her carry-on searched."

Doug groaned. "Just how many pieces did you leave them in?"

Another smile was Claire's answer.

"Actually, she did pretty well." Joel turned in his seat so he was facing Doug. "The real problem came when he had to set down in Northwest Arkansas because of a storm."

"Middle of fewkin' nowhere." Claire muttered. "Nothing to eat, nothing to drink. What the hell was I supposed to do? Sit quietly and wait?"

"She's got a point there." Joel said. "I think we'd still be there if it wasn't for Claire. The people running the place seemed quite happy to just sit and wait."

"They weren't as desperate to get across the country like I was." Claire said.

"That's why I didn't have a chance to call. I was really was afraid that if I stepped away to make it, she would raise hell, again." Joel pointed at Claire.

Claire smiled sweetly but not respond.

When George pulled the car into the front driveway of the hospital, it was decided that Abby would stay in the car with George and Doug would escort Joel and Claire upstairs.

"Bye, babe." Joel leaned in the open back window and kissed Abby on the cheek. "See you tonight."

She nodded and returned the kiss, on the lips and much deeper.

In the elevator, Doug looked at his wife, REALLY looked at her. "Now, Claire, I know I've told you what Danny looks like but it's still going to shock you when you see him in person."

Claire frowned. "Of course it's going to shock me. The man was beaten."

"Just don't get too upset, okay? And not in front of him, hold it in until you're away from him, then you can fall apart if you need to, okay?"

She nodded.

The elevator stopped on the fourth floor, the doors opened and they walked out but Claire stopped short just after they arrived on the floor.

"Is he really that bad off, Doug?" She asked.

He smiled down at her. "It looks worse than it really is but he's feeling really guilty about 'dragging' all of us out here. You'll see in a few minutes." He continued on down the hall.

Claire let out an exaggerated sigh. "Well, if he hadn't rushed out here without waiting for you--" She shook her head. "Right, no more guilt piled on top of what he's already feeling. I promise, I'll be good. How much further to his room?"

"Not too much." Doug looked over at Joel. "You up to keeping her out of trouble a bit longer?"

Joel grinned. "I'm armed, she's not."

"Like a puny firearm is going to keep ME in line . . . "

"Aw, Claire...you're not going to make my life harder than it has to be are ya?" Joel asked, with his best hangdog face.

She looked over at him, her face a study in dead seriousness, then she broke out a brilliant smile. "No, I won't. As long as I can see Danny sometime in the next quarter of an hour or so."

Doug snorted. "We're here." He stopped at a door on the right side of the hallway. He pushed the door opened enough to peer inside then looked back at the other two. "He's asleep. This'll be a hell of surprise for him. Now, I've got to get back to Abby before she gets George to drive off and leave me here." With a kiss on his wife's cheek, he left them standing in the hallway.

Claire waited until Doug was gone before quietly pushing her way into Danny's hospital room. She moved, just as silently, over to where she could look down on the agent and had to force herself not to cry out upon seeing the multitude of bruises around his face, upper arms and shoulders where they peeked out from under the hospital gown.

Joel came in behind her and even he had to take in a breath. "Damn." He muttered.

Biting her lip, Claire could only nod in agreement, then she HAD to get out of the room. She turned on her heel and fled out to the hallway.

Joel sighed, turned and followed her out into the hallway. "Claire?" He called after her, trying not to make a lot of noise.

She was standing outside a bathroom, ready to bolt inside, when Joel caught up to her. Instead of fleeing, she turned to him and asked a single question. "I've never seen someone beaten so severely, have you?"

Joel could only shake his head. "Are you going to be able to hold together in front of him?"

"Maybe." She nodded toward the bathroom. "Give me a few minutes?"

"Sure." He rested a gentle hand on her shoulder. "He's going to be fine, you've got to believe that."

Claire and stepped into the bathroom. Finding it to be a single occupancy type, she locked the door behind her. Sitting on the only available chair in the small room, she let loose with the tears that had been building up behind her eyes after seeing Danny. She wasn't sure how long she bawled, albeit quietly, but when she got up and looked at herself in the mirror, she realized there was no way she could permit Danny to see her like this. "I'm a wreck."

She immediately set out to try to reduce the puffiness under her eyes, as well as erasing the tear tracks from her face, before she stepped out of the bathroom to find Joel waiting patiently for her. "Sorry about that. Had to screw around with my contacts. Damn dry airplane air." She looked pointedly toward Danny's room. "Think he's still asleep?"

Joel nodded. "I just poked my head in and he's still out like a light." He leaned closer to her and whispered in her ear. "You don't wear contacts." Before turning and walking back to the room.

Claire smiled, rather watery, behind Joel's back as she followed him to the room. He knew the truth, but was willing to let her lie to maintain her dignity. Abby had a good man. They stepped back into Danny's room and, after five minutes of silent waiting, Joel offered to find some coffee or tea for them and Claire took up her 'post' in the visitor's chair and pulled out a book she'd brought.

A few minutes after Joel left, Danny stirred and woke up. He blinked and grimaced as his bruised and battered body protested any movement he made. "Damn, I just hate this." He muttered to himself.

"Then maybe, next time, you'll wait for Doug." Claire quietly spoke up in answer to Danny's musings.

He froze in place, his eyes darting around the room, when they found the face attached to the voice. "Claire?"

"Yeah, Danny, it's me." She put the book on the seat of the chair and walked over to brush back his hair. "How're you feeling?"

He scowled. "Like I'm about to be on the receiving end of another lecture about how stupid I was."

"Not from me, you're not. I made a promise." She smiled down at his scowling countenance. "Hey, grouchy, I'm supposed to be here to cheer you up, not drag you down deeper in da funkiness."

Danny's face flushed. "Sorry." He looked up at her and smiled. "You came all this way to see me? With the way you hate to travel? Wow."

"You're family, Danny. I do a lot of things for family that I refuse to do for my country."

That got her another grin. "Aw.... Claire..." He sighed. "Man, I feel like the world's biggest idiot, you know that?"

"Well, you look like the world's biggest walking contusion." She gently brushed back his hair again, it just refused to stay off his brow. "Now, tell me - truthfully - how are you feeling, Danny-Boy?"

His shoulders slumped in an unspoken answer. "Everything hurts, Claire. Everything."

"Hell of a way to learn the lesson, huh?"

He nodded. "If I hadn't been in such a damn hurry..."

"Why *were* you in such an all fired rush? You know Doug missed the flight only by four damn minutes."

Danny shrugged, or tried to. "I don't remember."

Claire stared at him. Her eyes held his captive until she responded to his admission. "Bullshit."

Danny actually looked affronted. "Claire, if I could remember, I would have told Doug or Abby or someone else a couple of days ago."

"Doug's been kicking himself ever since the call came in from LA that you'd been hurt, Danny." Claire quietly told him as she pulled the chair up closer to the bed.

The scowl returned to Danny's face and he looked away from her. "Yeah, I know. I know I've dragged the whole team through a knot hole because I was in too much of a damn hurry."

Her hand snaked under and through the bedside rail between them and Claire grasped his hand in a tight grip. "Drop the guilt-trip, Danny. I've had to put up with a brooding, snarling, pissed at himself Doug for days, I don't need you wallowing in remorse too."

He looked down at her hand. "What did you expect me to say, Claire? Damn, there is no way around it, it's because of me that Doug has been in such a great mood."

"No." Her hand tightened on his to a painful degree. "He was four minutes behind you. He _could_ have caught the very next direct flight to LAX from Washington and, from what I've discovered, actually been waiting for you when you landed."

He looked at her. "So, why didn't he?"

Claire released his hand and sat back in the chair. "Because, he thought you were planning on doing the 'right thing.' He never foresaw that your flight from KC would be delayed and that that would affect your plans." She looked at him again, her eyes once more nailing him to the proverbial wall. "You _did_ plan on informing the local office you were here and request a little assistance, right?"

Danny blinked. "Of course. I'm crazy not stupid."

"So, basically, what happened to you was a prime example of Murphy playing nasty-ass games with your well-thought out plans. And, because Murphy's a total bezoar, when he sent your offensive game plan sideways, he screwed with the rest of the team as well. NONE of this was YOUR fault."

"Yes, it is." Danny protested. "I didn't have to be in such a hurry to get out here. I could have waited for Doug. I didn't. I'm the idiot who caused all this."

Claire shook her head. "Well, call me selfish, but I'm happy Doug didn't beat you out here or forced you to wait. If he had, there's a damn good chance one, or both, of you would be dead and I am way too young to be a widow-woman."

Danny had no response for Claire's statement, not immediately anyway. "Wow, I hadn't thought of it that way."

She picked up her book and settled back deeper into the chair, pulling her legs up to the seat after kicking off her shoes. "Men just can't handle jumping from Point A to Point D without going through all the points in between. Glad I could help you winnow your thoughts to where they need to be. Now, rest. Before Abby comes in here and bawls me out for not letting you sleep."

Doug grinned. "Nah, Abby wouldn't do that to you."

"Yes, she would." Joel said, coming into the room with two cups of coffee. He handed one to Claire and waited as she tasted it. When she nodded in approval, he said, "See? I remember.""

"Good thing too, Rigby." Claire shot back. "I have no problem running the legs off a Secret Service Agent - I practice on a daily basis with FBI'ers."

Joel snorted. "Whatever, Miller." He sipped at his coffee and cast a look at Danny. "Do you feel as bad as you look?"

"If I look like I've been smashed flat by a road roller . . . then yeah."

Joel shook his head. "I've been in some nasty fights myself but never that bad. When do you think they're going to kick you loose?"

Danny shook his head as his unencumbered hand - the one without an IV planted in the back of the palm - drifted toward his now broken ribs. "No idea. I was hoping for a few days, but then... "

Joel nodded. "I understand. I knew a guy in the protection detail for the Vice-President who got in a tangle with a couple of nutcases at the last convention. Some people don't take 'no' for an answer."

"I don't think you do, Joel." Danny admitted as he covered his torso in a protective gesture. "And, this time, I have only myself to blame for the additional damage."

Joel shot a look at Claire, then back at Danny. "Why? What did you do?"

"Danny? What happened?" Claire asked in a tone of voice that reminded Danny - all too well - of one of his Maternal Aunts who seemed to love him more than his own mother, her sister, did.

"IfeelagainstthebedtryingtoAMAoutofheretoassistonthecase." He spit the words out so quickly that neither Joel nor Claire was able to understand him fully.

"Danny, slow down. Whatever you did, just slow down and tell us." Joel told him.

Danny let out a frustrated sigh and repeated himself. "I was being stubborn. George was here and I was determined to check myself out of here against medical advice and, well, I'm not exactly a graceful person and...I fell against the bed with my cracked ribs and broke them clean apart."

Joel's eyebrows went up in startlement. "Damn, man, are you trying to kill yourself? Or scare George into quitting?"

Claire let out a chuckle. "I'm not sure anything could scare George off the Job. Unless it was seeing Abby in a towering rage."

"It's not like I was trying to hurt myself more, Rigby. I just -- tripped over my own two feet."

Joel snorted. "Maybe we should rename you Fred. Bet they hurt like hell when you landed on them."

Danny nodded. "Like a red-hot iron rod going into my lung." He flipped back the blankets on the side of the bed Joel was standing next to, then lifted the side of the gown to expose the latest surgical scar. "Which is why I've got a drainage tube the size of the Aleutian pipeline installed."

Joel whistled. "You're one up on me, then." He undid the cuff on his button down shirt and exposed a four-inch scar on the inner side of his lower arm.

"Wow, that's nasty-looking." Danny commented. "What did you do, if you don't mind me asking?"

Joel almost grinned. "I wasn't watching where I was going. In a foot chase with a suspect, I thought I cut him off by shortcutting through an empty room. Well, there was a reason why the room was empty. No floor. Four feet straight down on hard packed dirt."

Danny let out a low whistle as Claire grimaced. "Sounds to me like someone ELSE in this room needs to be named 'Gene.' Don't you agree, Danny Astaire?"

Danny nodded as Joel shrugged. "I'm certain they heard my scream all the way into downtown Denver."

Danny started to snicker, then let out a low moan of pain as the movement of his ribs caused the pain to flare through his entire body. "Ow, ow ow! Don't make me laugh, guys."

"Sorry, man. How about this one?" Joel said, "My supervising agent when I first started out? He put his hand right through a plate glass window. He thought it was open."

Claire shook her head. "What is it with men doing stupid, physical things to themselves?" She looked back at Danny. "Remind Doug to tell you, sometime soon, about the time he thought he'd turned off all the electricity to the house before wiring in a new fan in the bedroom."

Danny's eyes popped open. "He didn't electrocute himself, did he?"

"If you ever see the bottom of his feet--" Claire shrugged as she sipped a bit more out of her slowly cooling coffee cup.

"It's in our genetic code, Claire." Joel said, leaning against the wall, sipping at his coffee. "It's in the same part of the code as not asking for directions when lost and leaving the toilet seat up."

Claire looked pointedly past Joel at the empty chair on the other side of the empty second bed in the semi-private room. "You're hovering, Joel. Grab a seat before I get a crick in my neck or, worse, you give Danny one."

Joel looked over at the empty chair. "God as my witness, I didn't see that chair there." He dragged the chair over closer to Danny's bed and sat. "Now, Claire, you can not tell me that you've never done something stupid that didn't result in physical injury to yourself."

"Of course I did." She simpered as she took another drink of coffee.

"And?"

Danny watched as the fair skinned State Department Executive Secretary flushed a bright, bright red before she answered. "I broke an ankle stepping in a fresh pile of doggie doo."

Joel nearly spit coffee all over the floor. "Ow."

"Agreed. Worst part about it was I couldn't say what I really wanted to say when I did it." She shrugged. "I was volunteering as a troop leader with the local Girl Scouts and I just couldn't permit myself to curse in front of fifth and sixth graders."

Joel covered his mouth with one hand, when he was sufficiently composed he said, "You are far more disciplined than me. My boss, the one who put his hand through the window? Gave whole new meaning to cuss like a sailor."

"Yeah, well, it gave my girls a chance to prove to me, and the responding paramedics, that they really had earned their First Aid badges." She smiled at the memory. "The medics didn't even remove their supporting wrap and the doc at the ER didn't want to either. They did that well."

Danny clapped. "You trained them well, Claire."

"Damn straight I did." She polished off her coffee. "But that was also the last year I was able to work as a volunteer leader. College got really hectic and I had to devote even my summers to my schooling."

Danny nodded. "I think you'd be a great troop leader, Claire."

"I may go back to it, someday." She stood up and started to fuss and fidgit with the blankets covering Danny's legs and lower torso, pulling them up higher and basically straightening them out. "Now, close your eyes and get some more rest. Joel or I will be here for a while and, even if we're not, we'll be close by. All right, Danny?"

Danny started to argue but a huge yawn interrupted him. "Yes, ma'am." His eyelids started to slide shut. "Claire?" He opened his eyes.

"Yes, Danny?"

"Thanks for coming out." He lifted his head and looked at Joel. "You too, Joel."

"You're welcome, Webster." Joel responded.

"You're family, Danny. What else would I do?" Claire said as his eyelids closed for the last time and he slipped back into the arms of Morpheus.

***************

As early afternoon slid into late afternoon on the fourth day of the investigation, the first major break in Danny's case appeared. Colby had finished scanning all the video footage from the TSA and the LAX PD and now had the first images of Danny's assailant.

"This first bit is from the LAX PD's video footage of the rental car counters." Colby said, queuing up the correct footage. "Watch the two guys that come up behind Danny." He pressed the 'play' button on the remote and, all assembled watched in silence, as Danny approached the Avis rental car counter and talked to the representative behind the counter. Behind him, not close enough to be noticed but still close enough to watch him, stood two men, dressed casually, button-down shirts and jeans. They studiously avoided looking at the counter or the people standing at it, until Danny turned away from the counter and walked past them. They watched him and then followed him out of camera range. Colby stopped the video and queued up another bit of footage on a second screen.

"This next part is from the TSA's cameras of the parking garage. Watch the top of the screen. You'll see the same two guys we just saw at the rental car counter." He hit the 'play' button and the images moved across the screen. Shortly, just as he said, the same two men were seen walking rapidly, past rows upon of parked cars. They walked out of camera range and were not seen for several seconds, then a car passed the camera and Colby froze the image. "Apparently, they felt confident enough to go and get their car and not worry about losing Danny."

He queued up footage on a third screen. "This last bit came from the security cameras in the parking lot at the Fullerton Arboretum." He paused, then added, "I called and asked and they sent it over. This footage specifically is from a parking lot camera on the far right side of the parking lot. I warn you though, this footage isn't the best."

He pushed the 'play' button. In a moment, it was obvious as to why Colby had warned everyone. Although the parking lot at the Arboretum was brightly lit and the footage was from the camera closest to the action, it was still hard to make out anything beyond the very general.

"Watch for a red car, if you can make one out. According to the rental records from Avis, Danny was driving a red sedan." Colby said.

Shortly after he spoke, a red car pulled into the mostly empty parking lot. A man got out of the car and walked toward the front entrance, disappearing from the view of camera in moments. A few minutes later, a dark blue car pulled into the parking lot and parked next to the red car. Two men emerged from it and followed Danny, also disappearing from camera view shortly there after. Colby paused the footage.

"The timestamp is 8:35 p.m. Nothing happens until after the majority of lights in the parking lot are turned off at 9 p.m." He hit the 'play' button and the footage moved quickly along. The lights in the parking lot went out and then he hit the 'play' button a second time. The footage resumed a normal pace until he paused the footage again. "It's hard to see but if you look closely, you can see three figures moving around. I tried zooming in on the image but it degraded it too much." Using a laser pointer, Colby highlighted a section of the video screen that contained three indistinct blobs. He hit the 'play' button and the footage marched across the screen.

The three blobs moved as one to one of the cars. There was a lack of movement, then one of the blobs turned and went over to the other car. Taillights came on in both cars and both pulled out of the Arboretum and out of view of the camera. Colby paused the image, hit a couple of buttons on the computer in front of him and up popped two images from the rental counter video.

"I was able to pull some clean shots from the footage at the rental car counter. I've got a facial recognition program running, hopefully it will spit out some names shortly."

The whole room studied the images from the video, Abby and Doug a bit more closely than the others. The image on the left was of a man with a swarthy complexion, average height and build, with straight dark hair, pulled back into a small ponytail. He had a crooked nose, like he had been in one bar fight too many. He wore a simple t-shirt and jeans, his hands stuffed in the pockets of the jeans.

The image on the right was of a man as well. He had a fair complexion, taller than the other man and with short, probably, blonde hair. He had a squared off nose and chin and a long, jagged scar that ran from the bottom of his left eye down to his lips. He wore a light colored button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up and jeans.

"What's that on his arm? The guy on the left. " George asked, breaking the silence.

Colby looked up at the screen and squinted. "Where are you looking?"

George came over to the screen and pointed up at the man's left arm. "That smudge on his arm. Is that dirt or a tattoo?"

Colby raised his eyebrows but did not reply. He zoomed in on the area George was pointing at and attempted to resize the area so they could all see. It worked, partially. The smudge on the arm was a tattoo in the general shape of an animal of some kind with a tail but that was all that could be made out from the still.

"Hang on, let me see if I can't get a better shot of his arm." Colby said, hitting some buttons on the computer. The footage from the second video image zipped backwards, stopping on an image of the man on the left leaning against a wall near the rental car counters. Colby hit another button and, again, a small area on the man's left arm was zoomed in on but this time, the image was much clearer. The tattoo was of a…

"A monkey?" Colby said, squinting at the screen.

"That's Curious George." George said, staring at the screen.

"You can NOT be serious." Don said. "What kind of thug has a tat of Curious George?"

"Trust me on this one." George pointed up at the screen. "THAT is Curious George."

Doug tilted his head to one side. "You know, Don…he's right."

Abby nodded, adding, "I'll be damned. It is Curious George."

Colby nodded and typed something into the computer. "I'm having the computer search the tattoo databases for monkey tattoos….I don't believe I just said that." He muttered.

"How did you know that?" David asked.

George looked over his shoulder at him. "When your name is George, you hear all the bad jokes and nasty comparisons. After a while, you recognize them before people can say anything."

David nodded and fell silent.

The computer beeped twice. "No monkey tattoos." Colby said. The computer beeped twice a second time. "All right, that's more like it." He hit a button and up on the screen came two mug shots. "Say hello to Alberto Jorge Silvio and Thomas DeShayne." He scrolled down the screen, reading as he went. Get this, his nickname is 'Curious George'." Colby looked over at George. "You have sharp, sharp eyes. I never saw that tattoo."

George turned red and mumbled 'you're welcome'.

"You ever get tired of him, Abby, I'll be happy to have another video whiz on my team." Don said.

"Nothin' doin', Don. George is mine, all mine." Abby replied, a smile on her face.

George turned a brighter shade of red.

"I've sent a BOLO out to the L.A.P.D. and the L.A.S.O. as well as the other police agencies in the Greater Los Angeles area." Colby said. "Now, we wait."

"This is the part that sucks." Abby said.

"Agreed." Doug said.

"I've found that the best way to get the time to pass is to find something else to do." Megan said. "Stating the obvious, I know but it's heading toward dinner time and it might be nice to actually eat dinner while the sun is still up."

"You trying to tell me something, Megan?" Don asked her.

"Why whatever are you talking about?" Megan replied, innocence personified.

Don shook his head. He looked over at Abby, Doug and George. "Go on back to the hotel and be back here at 8 a.m."

Doug nodded and started to steer Abby toward the door. She allowed herself to lead only so far before she stopped in front of Don and looked him in the eye. "What happens if you get a hit on those pics over night?"

He smiled at her, a genuine, friendly smile and said "You'll have to trust me on that."

***********

Joel read the same sentence in the book he'd brought along with him for the third time before giving up and closing the cover. He sighed and looked over at Abby, fast asleep next to him in bed. She slept, curled on her side, totally relaxed, the worry lines on her face disappearing. He reached over and ran a hand down her bare arm. She made some small noise of contentment but that was all. Questions crowded into his head. Questions he had no answers for. He had never seen Abby so run down and worn out. Granted, he hadn't known her for more than a year but still…

He watched Abby sleep for a few more minutes before making up his mind. There was one person, and one person only, who could answer the questions he had. He slid from the bed, pulled on a pair of pants and a shirt and went across the hallway and knocked on the hotel room door. Doug Miller opened the door a few moments later.

Doug took in the appearance of Joel Rigby at his door and, glancing back at his sleeping wife, nodded and followed the Treasury Agent out into the hall and down to a small lounge not too far from their rooms.

"Uh...Doug?" Joel waited until Doug was seated before pouncing on him.

"Yeah, Joel, I know... She hasn't been eating right either. I managed to badger her into eating a whole egg and two strips of bacon this morning and I'm willing to bet that's all she's really had since we left DC."

Joel ran a hand through his hair. He knew more than most just how 'fixated' on a case Abby could get to the exclusion of anything else, including eating and sleeping. "Doug, you've been here four days. Tell me she's had more than that to eat."

"Well, there was a darn near full serving of Moo Goo Gai Pan yesterday...and she's been drinking coffee like it's water. But I've been running down even the tiniest leads with the local major crime team here and -- Joel, I've done what I could, but I feel like I let you and Abby down by not sitting on her."

Joel shook his head. "It's not your fault. She's an adult and she knows how she can get. She's just too damn stubborn to admit it." He paused then added "And the rest of you?"

"Worn out and rolled thin. Not to mention having to rely on the goodness of others in a city that's more maze than amazing. We're out of our depth here, Joel. I know it, George knows it and your lady knows it but refuses to admit it."

Another nod. "And Danny? Does he know it?"

Doug nodded. "I'm pretty sure Danny knew he was out of his depth before the smack down, but that pretty much was his Wake Up Stupid call."

Joel crossed his arms and asked _the_ question "So if he knew, then WTF? What's he doing out here?"

"Typical Rookie mistake ... he got a lead on a Mayan antiquity piece that was stolen from Madrid and, instead of waiting for a partner to back him, he lit out of DC like a greased fox. Abby got the call from the local FBI office about Danny being hurt before we'd even figured out WHERE the hell he'd gone running off to."

Joel shook his head. "I knew something ugly had gone down when Claire looked mad enough to kill when she showed up for the National's game. She's never looked that mad before in all the games we've seen. Hell, she was delighted to find out that I liked the National's. She said you were hopeless when it came to baseball. I agreed that Abby was too. But that day…" He shook his head. "All she said was 'Danny fucked up.'"

Doug let out a snort. "She actually dropped the f-bomb?"

Joel nodded. "She did. I about fell over."

That got another snort from Doug. "She never was one to beat around the bush."

Silence fell with both men looking at each other but saying nothing. Finally, Joel broke the silence.

"What else happened?"

Doug frowned. "What do you mean?"

"You've told me that Abby hasn't been eating a lot, that she's been drinking coffee like there's no tomorrow, that's she's been stressed out, along with the rest of you but what else? You haven't told me everything? What aren't you saying?"

Doug sighed, hunched his shoulders and looked at the table next to them. He looked up a few moments later and said "Yesterday afternoon, she almost but not quite, fainted. I wasn't there. I was out running down a lead with David Sinclair, an agent on the L.A. team, when it happened."

Joel frowned. If the case was starting to affect Abby's health, they had a serious problem to deal with. "What, exactly, happened?"

"According to Don Eppes, the L.A. team leader, she got an odd look on her face, before turning white. He got her into a chair and Colby Granger, another agent on the team, who's also an EMT, looked her over. He said it was low blood sugar. I came in a few minutes later and towed her off to get lunch. Problem solved. Since then, she's had me, Colby AND Don on her case."

Joel let out another sigh. That was Abby, the Queen of Stubborn. "Bet she hasn't liked that."

Doug nodded. "Yeah, I keep hearing about how she can take care of herself, thank you."

Joel nodded. "Well, what you say does explain what I saw in her hotel room."

Doug quirked an eyebrow. "Not to get too personal but what did you see?"

"A ten cup coffee maker and enough Maxwell House to float a battleship."

"Damn...I knew she wasn't eating well, I didn't know she hadn't been sleeping worth a flying mouse fart. I am so sorry, Joel. I really _have_ let you down."

Joel reached over and slapped Doug on the shoulder. "You've got nothing to apologize for." A smile tugged at the corners of Joel's mouth. "And you don't have to worry about it any more. I took care of the problem."

Doug's eyebrows went up. "What did you do?"

"After she went to sleep, I removed the leaded version and called down to the front desk looking for some unleaded coffee. It's not quite the same but..." He shrugged. "The leaded version was handed over to a very happy front desk. She'll be pissed come tomorrow evening but tough. I didn't drag myself out here, with your lovely wife, just to have Abby wind up in the hospital next to Danny."

Doug looked at Joel. "You're walking in dangerous territory, man. She'll be beyond pissed."

Joel shook his head. "Too bad. Her health is more important. Besides, it's not that she won't have ANY caffeine in her coffee, just not here."

Doug nodded and the conversation turned to other things before wandering back onto the topic of Danny's case and the team investigating it.

"Give me your honest assessment of them, Doug. Abby's says they're good and I'd approve of them but I wanna know what you think."

"Good team, if I wasn't working for Abs, I'd be tempted to transfer out here to work with Eppes."

Joel nodded. "That's a high compliment."

"It's true. The rest of the team...if they ever lose their minds and want to move to DC, I'd recommend them. Have you ever met SSA Cody Granger in Crypto?"

Joel's forehead wrinkled in thought. "I might have. Why?"

"His younger brother is the EMT Special Agent here who's been monitoring Abby. Colby Granger. The LA FBI Agent who was instrumental in bringing down that DOJ spy ring?"

Joel's eyes popped open. "That guy? He's out here?"

"Yeah, he is and a more down to earth, _don't-remind-me-of-that-hero-crap _guy you will never meet."

Joel chuckled. "Really? That's good to know." He made some noise of agreement with himself, then said "That he stayed out here when he probably had the pick of assignments really does speak volumes for them."

"Just do him a favor should you meet Granger...don't make a fuss. He really is just your ordinary agent and wants to be treated that way."

Joel nodded. "Not a problem." He grinned, then added "What about George? Anyone tell him not to make a fuss over Granger?"

Doug ran a hand down his face and shrugged. "We tried. George, however, is George and he's got a serious case of Hero Worship going on." He let out a chuckle. "He's gotten better, but the first days out here, anytime he had to talk around Granger, the poor boy just stuttered and hemmed and hawed all over the place."

Laughter was Joel's answer. "Oh, boy. I remember when it all went down and it was revealed that Granger really had been under cover, Abby would tell me in the evenings just how much George had gone on and on about Granger. It was almost like he had a man crush on him."

Doug didn't hold back the laughter that bubbled up. He just laughed and laughed. When he finally got himself under control, he just shook his head. "Remind me not to get in a war of words with you… 'man crush'..." He snickered. "I'll have to tell George that his main problem around Colby Granger is a Man Crush."

Joel grinned. "I'll deny every word of it. Seriously, how are all of you holding up?" He asked again.

"Fair to middlin'. We're getting by. I'm not as worried about George and I or even Abby… Danny, however, I'm worried about."

"Why? What exactly's got you worried?" Joel knew Doug was a better than average judge of character so if he was spotting something wrong, something was TRULY wrong.

"Danny's putting on a good face, but inside...he's beating himself up over this fubar he went and got himself into." Doug leaned back in the chair and tried to be philosophical about Danny. "In many ways, Danny's still a rookie but in others-- he's a seasoned agent. This screw up is going to mess with his self-confidence and THAT, Joel, is going to take more than a few sessions with a FBI Certified psychologist to straighten out."

Joel nodded. "We all step into it at one time or another, some more than others."

"True." Doug stood up and stretched. "Look, Joel, I wouldn't mind staying out here longer and talk with you - but I've got a wife back in the room who will, if she notices I'm gone, rip me a new one."

Joel snorted. "Far be it from me to keep you from your lovely bride." He stood and held out his hand to Doug. "Thanks."

Doug clasped his hand, then released it. "Go get some sleep yourself. Once it occurs to Abby that you and Claire can take over Danny watch, you're going to be hard pressed not to be bored out of your gourd."

"I can handle that. I wind up being bored out of my gourd half the time at work anyway. You know how many yahoos think they're the first to come up with copying money on a color copier?"

"Quite a few I imagine." Doug led the way back down the hall toward their rooms. "Joel, we'll keep as close an eye on Abby as we can while working the case...just hope you're up to handling her once we hit our down time." He smiled as he opened up the door to his room, slipped in and quietly closed the door behind him

Joel smiled and entered his and Abby's room, just as quietly.


	7. Chapter 7

**Act Six**

When Abby arrived at the Federal Building the next morning, she was feeling much better than she had been in the entire time she had been in L.A. Of course, a lot of that probably had to do with Joel's arrival. She had actually slept for more than a few hours, his strong arms wrapped around her, protecting her. A sly grin slipped across her face as she remembered hers and Joel's early morning activities. Activities that, hopefully, would be continued that evening.

Her good mood lasted until she stepped off the elevator with her team and saw what had been going on in their absence. Her glance moved back and forth between Don's team stripping out of their vests and holsters to two perps being _escorted_ down the hall to the interrogation rooms. Just a glimpse of one of the perps and she could just feel her blood pressure rise.

She rounded on Don. "WTF? You said to trust you about the perps." She jerked a thumb in the direction of the interrogation rooms. "I did, and you couldn't be bothered to call and tell me you had them?"

"You wanted to be wakened at 0530 with a 'maybe'?" Eppes asked, even as Granger and Sinclair muttered under their breath, _'I sure as hell didn't_.'

"I might have. But since they're here, it obviously was more than a maybe."

"Actually," Megan spoke up, earning her the collective glares from no less than three - then four, once Eppes had slipped his vest off - pissed off Agents. "Until the LAPD Gang Unit, along with LAPD SWAT took the door with a no-knock warrant, we weren't even 70% certain that the perps were where they were supposed to be." She shrugged out of her own vest, nodding a thanks to David, who caught it.

Abby scowled but couldn't think of anything else to say. What could she say? Doug threw a look at her before turning and striding purposefully toward the interrogation rooms. "Damn it, Doug come back here." Abby snapped at him. "Doug? Miller!" She headed after him, hoping to cut him off before he got too far.

Don sighed and motioned for his team to help out Abby. He nailed George Staunton with a glare as he moved to assist Stroud with Miller.

Abby reached Doug first, stepping into his path, with Colby, David and Megan, coming up behind him. Abby could see them just behind Doug but hoped they wouldn't have to do anything. "Doug, you can't do this. You know you can't do this."

Behind the group, unnoticed, the elevator arrived on the floor with a soft 'ding.'

"Abby..." Doug growled. "You're just as pissed as I am."

"Yeah, I am, but I'm not willing to get the whole case tossed because I lost my temper. Stop and think for a moment! Think as an agent. NOT a linebacker."

Doug's fists clenched and clenched, a scowl settled onto his normally handsome face. "Abby, you're asking too much..."

"Asking too much? You wanna tell Danny why the case is going to get tossed? Is that what you want? Huh, Miller, is that it? You don't care what might happen latter as long you get to beat the shit out of someone now?!" Abby demanded of him.

"Abby..." He growled. Down the hall, the door to one of the interrogation rooms opened and closed. It was opened just long enough for everyone to hear the perp bellowing.

"I'm gonna SUE this WHOLE GODDAMN building! False arrest!"

"Doug..." Abby pleaded with him. "Don't...Do...This." She shook her head with each word. "Think...Please..."

Doug looked at his boss and calmly stepped around her.

"Miller! Stand DOWN!" The voice ripped through the crowd and it was one that wasn't well known, to _most_ of the people there. The effect on Doug was electric. His head snapped up and around, looking for the source of the voice.

Before he could locate the source, she was right up against him, invading his space. "You want to tango with someone, I'm your gal, Agent Miller. Suspects are off limits."

Doug looked down at the fierce, dark haired woman who was inches from his nose. "Who the hell are you?"

"Your worst nightmare if you don't back down in this house."

Doug looked at the woman, clearly weighing his options but then, like flipping a switch, his anger dissipated and vanished as quickly as it came. His hands relaxed and the stiffness went out of his shoulders.

"Good choice there, Maddog Miller."

He frowned. "You saw me play pro ball?"

"I was at the game that ended your career." She stuck out a hand in greeting. "Yelena Dunbar, NCIS."

He looked at her again, and then held out his hand. "You're Granger's girlfriend."

"Guilty." She peered past him to look towards the interrogation room, and then glanced over at Eppes. "Those the ones you been hunting, Don? The ones on the videos which pretty much ruined Colby's eyesight?"

Don nodded. "That's right, 'Lena. You've got good timing, you know that?"

"So I've been told." She smiled, then explained. "Actually, I came by to make arrangements to 'borrow' the FBI's gun range for a requal later today. Stopped up here on a hunch, and to see the man I haven't seen enough of recently."

All eyes turned and focused on Colby, who blushed a, truly, lovely shade of red.

"You get the arrangements made?" Don asked. "If not, I'll be happy to help you get them."

She shook her head. "I've gotten the range master's okay, but apparently the other person I have to get to sign off on the request isn't due in until after lunch. ADA Wright?" Yelena walked over to Colby's desk, spotted the vests laying on a spare desktop, and then turned around to look at him. "You're okay, right? No bruises?"

Colby nodded. "No bruises. We're all good."

"Good." Her nose wrinkled. "Okay, who's forgotten how to clean their ballistic vest?"

Megan snorted. "Think about it, 'Lena."

"Right." She picked up Colby's vest, and then held her hand out to Reeves. "Might as well do something productive. Since I have time to kill."

Surprised, Megan handed her vest to Yelena. "Thanks, I was not looking forward to cleaning it myself."

"Not a problem, Megan." She looked around for a spare body and her blue-gray hazel gaze landed on one person in particular. "Staunton, right?"

George nodded. "Yes, ma'am."

"You got somewhere you have to be between now and lunch?"

George looked at Abby, who shook her head, then at Don, who also shook his head. "No."

"Good. Grab the other vests. You're about to get a crash lesson in proper care of a ballistic vest." She walked over to Granger, gave him a peck on the cheek, and a smile. "I'll call you about lunch later, love."

He nodded. "Don't worry." Colby reassured the younger man. "She doesn't bite. Not really."

"Wrong answer, Granger. I do bite. I'm just very selective and, frankly, one FBI agent in a lifetime is more than enough." Yelena said.

"Go easy on him Dunbar, Stroud would like to go back to D.C. with all the people she came out with."

Yelena looked over at Don with a look of disdain. "Spoil sport. Come on, George. I believe Granger here has what we need back at his place. Right, Colby?" Her smile was brilliant as she moved Megan's vest into a more secure location, stacked on top of Colby's in her arms, and left the other two vests for the rookie agent from D.C. to handle. "Hurry up, Staunton, I'm not waiting all day."

Abby watched her agent disappear with the NCIS agent. "Am I going to get him back in one piece?"

Colby shrugged. "Probably."

"Colby!" Megan looked at Abby and nodded. "Dunbar's more bark than bite . . . and she's got a lot of experience to base her training on. If George asks the right questions, she'll give him some good advice."

Abby grinned. "Good, I keep trying to get George to see something beyond the four walls of the Art Crime office."

"Don't be surprised if she drags him off to the gun range later." David quipped from his desk, where he was putting away his sidearm.

She snorted and looked over at Doug, now slumped against the closest wall. She came over to him quietly questioned him. "What the hell, Miller?"

Doug let out a sigh and shrugged his shoulders. "I'm sorry, Abby." His face flushed to a noticeable shade of red. "I shouldn't have lost my temper like that. You should put me on report."

She raised an eyebrow. "You're right, I should. You wanna tell me what set you off or do I just guess?"

"Guess." His face got just a tad bit redder.

She almost smiled and laid a hand on his arm. "While I'm sure Danny knows you would gladly rip someone's head off for him, I'm not so sure he would appreciate knowing that you came within a hair's breadth of actually doing so. Get what I'm saying?"

Doug Miller, big bad Doug Miller looked down right abashed as he nodded in agreement. "I get you. Maybe I should get away from here for a while, I'm still not firmly in control of the powder keg."

"The gym is in the basement, Doug." Don volunteered, walking over to the two agents. "You wouldn't be the first to beat a punching bag into submission while dressed in street clothes."

"Think I'll be able to find someone to spot me?" Doug asked, even as David walked up behind him and clasped him on a shoulder.

"I will." David offered. "And trust me when I say - I _know_ where you're coming from."

Don nodded in agreement, then gave a final piece of advice before sending the two off to the Gymnasium in the basement. "Just be ready to go at our two lovelies in about 2 hours. That should be long enough to have them sweating buckets before we 'talk' with them about their assault on a innocent 'civilian'."

Doug grinned a truly feral smile. "And I want to hear every last word of their 'explanation'."

"You will." Don reassured him, and Abby, before heading off to grab a cup of coffee before giving a verbal report to the ADA On-Call, Sheila Westenkichner, about the early morning raid and arrest.

***********

"Jorge, Curious George, you are in some serious trouble." Don said to Jorge Silvio after killing a good ten or twelve minutes flipping through old case files. Doug stood behind Silvio and glowered.

"I didn't do nothin' man. This is harassment. I know my rights." Jorge muttered.

"Tell me about the poor schmuck you and your buddy shadowed from LAX to the Fullerton Arboretum."

"Don't know what you're talkin' about. Didn't shadow no one. You seeing things."

"Uh-huh. You've been talking, Jorge, to all the right people." Don nodded at Colby and Megan behind the one-way glass and a montage of still photographs flickered to life on a wall next to Jorge. "Gee, you got a twin you never told anyone about, Jorge?"

The first montage of photos was clearly taken from the footage at LAX and there were more than just one picture up on the video display. Jorge shot a glance at the photos, then back at Don. "How you know that's me? There's all kinds of guys out there that look like that."

"Oh sure, you could say that, Jorge." The photo on the wall with the best angle of the tattoo became the _only_ photo on the wall then a square appeared and centered on the arm of Jorge's Look-a-Like and enlarged the area. "But how many schmoes wearing those colors would have a cartoon monkey inked on their bicep?"

Jorge looked at the enlarged area and swallowed. He looked back at Don and scowled. "I'm sure you're gonna tell me."

"Nope. After you made the mistake of spit'in on Sgt. Torres this morning, we've got DNA that will connect you to the guy you and your buddy tailed from LAX, abducted from Fullerton and left dead or dying on the side of the road in Yorba Linda." Don closed the two files on the table and made a cut-off motion to the official observers to have them turn off the video screen and the room's lights.

In the 70% gloom, he made one final comment. "Just be happy I'm not leaving you in here, alone, with Miller. The man you and DeShayne left on the side of the road was _his_ partner." Don smiled when he noticed that Jorge lost all of his natural coloring in his face after Doug silently popped his knuckles and chuckled. Evilly. "Or you could talk to me and I'd see what I could do to keep you from dying today."

Jorge swallowed and licked his lips. "All right! All right! Jeez...this s what I get for tryin' to make some scratch. What d'ya wanna know?"

"Everything. And, be advised, we're recording this confession and you will be required to sign a transcript afterwards." Don nodded to Doug who smirked and left the room.

Jorge sighed and his shoulders drooped in defeat. "Man..." he muttered.

~*~*~*~*~

Colby and Megan chuckled in the observation room as she turned the recorders on and he noted aloud, "He's gotten sharper at the whole psychological mind screws in interrogation. Guess he's been listening to you, Megs."

"Of course he has. He knows greatness when he hears it."

Colby nodded to David, who looked over at Doug Miller who held up a hand, then disappeared into the break room for a few minutes. He came back out, drying his hands on a handful of paper towels. "Cold water wash, makes my hands ache, but also primes the knuckles for massive cracking on demand." He nodded toward the other perp's, DeShayne, interrogation room. "Shall we, Agent Sinclair?"

David grinned. "I like the way you think, Doug."

"I just hope I get to touch this one . . . Eppes didn't give me the signal I wanted."

"Down, boy. If you rip him into pieces, _**I**_ get to do the paperwork."

"No major mayhem, Sinclair, I promise."

~*~*~*~*~

David opened the door to the Interrogation Room # 2 and walked in with Doug right behind him and shut the door. Doug went directly over to stand behind DeShayne and the same routine commenced as had with Silvio. David flipping through the files while Doug glowered at DeShayne.

It took a little longer to cause DeShayne to twitch his back and try to crane his head around to look at Doug, who promptly flicked his ear just like he had done to Silvio. It took five more _corrective actions_ before Thomas DeShayne started to whine about _not having broken no laws_ and _didn't do nuthin_ and moaning about how the FBI would be _sorry_ they had ever screwed with him or Jorge.

David didn't even ask anything before signaling to Colby to flip the still photomontage up on the video screen and clicking his tongue behind his teeth. "Man, those are some fantastically clear surveillance pics. Don't you think so, Thomas? I mean, you can make out that missing front tooth of yours, not to mention Silvio's monkey tat."

Thomas flicked a glance at the montage on the wall. "Don't know what you're talkin' about." He mumbled.

"Oh, right. You were just hanging around LAX near the Avis desk and decided to leave just as that guy at the counter did. It's all one massive coinkydink. Right?"

"You can't prove it was me. This is...is...racial profiling, that's what this is."

"Right, can't prove anything." The photos changed to a different location, but there was Thomas and Silvio and The Poor Schmuck in the parking area of Fullerton Arboretum. "Amazing coincidence." David snorted and shook his head sideways. "Did you really piss in the back of the patrol unit that brought you over, Thomas?"

Thomas grinned.

David smiled back at him. "Smooth, E-lax, real smooth. Miller, LAPD promised DNA samples on Bright Boy here and his dippity-doo buddy, right?"

Doug nodded. "ASAP too."

"And we recovered viable samples from the Yorba Linda dump job, right?" David winced in his mind, and made a note to apologize to Doug later, once they had this skell's confession on tape.

Doug nodded. "Yeah."

"So, Thomas, you watch television much?"

"Depends what's on...and if we got cable or not."

"You're a bright guy, I bet you watch CSI, don't need cable for that, right?"

Thomas shook his head. "I've watched a few times. Got some goooood lookin' women on that show."

"So you know what DNA is, right?" David asked, almost feeling sorry for the shithead. Almost. But he'd been 'in' on the beating of a fellow FBI Agent and that would not be allowed to stand.

Thomas nodded. "What'cha getting' at?"

"You and Jorge beat someone up, leaving pieces of yourselves on him, then you dumped him on the side of the road in Yorba Linda and, being the premier investigative unit that is the FBI, _we_ managed to recover your DNA from the dump job and-" David let out a snicker, "-since you were kinda enough to piss away your DNA, pretty soon I'm going to be able to hang that crime right on your urethral cells."

Thomas stared at him. "My what?"

"Urethral cells. Itty bitty pieces of yourself that get flushed away, usually down a drain or a toilet, every time you take a leak." David closed the file in front of him, and then stood up. "This skell ain't going to tell us jack squat to save his hide, let's leave him to rot, Miller."

Doug cracked his knuckles one at a time. "Leave him with me for a couple of minutes, I'm sure I can get something outta him."

Thomas shot Doug a nervous look.

"Now, Miller, I know the guy was your partner . . . but we've got this SOB and his buddy. No need to tank your second career by killing someone. Accidentally, of course." David made a show of 'counseling' Miller and gently trying to force the man from the room.

Doug scowled. "That first time was a mistake ya know. How was I to know that the tarp covering the hole wasn't there any more?" He made a great show of just standing there, glowering at Thomas.

"Hey, man, I know ..." David stepped aside, as planned, and Doug made a mad, short dash toward Thomas just as Colby burst in through the door and 'tackled' Miller up against a wall even as DeShayne scrambled out of the former linebacker's way. "MILLER!"

If he hadn't seen Colby and Doug choreographing that very stunt in a spare room earlier, David would've sworn on a stack of bibles that what he was seeing was real and that Miller was deadly serious about wrapping his hands around Thomas' neck. But a few grunts and one body slam later, Granger was heaving Miller out of the room and David was able to slam the door shut behind the combatants and lock himself and DeShayne in the room.

DeShayne's stared at David wild-eyed. "What the _fuck_ was that?! You tryin' to get me killed?!"

"Hey, you're still kickin'. I'm more worried about the man that came in here after Miller. Once he's done putting Miller in his place, he may just decide that it is worth the month's worth of paperwork to finish the job." David made a show of looking rather terrified of the slightly smaller, but obviously tougher, white guy who'd just dragged Miller off. "He's former covert-ops and, frankly, those guys do not have their heads screwed on right, ya know what I mean?"

DeShayne looked David up and down. "You sayin' he could...oh, man..." He threw himself in the chair and put his head in his hands. "I am so screwed."

"Talk to me, Tommy. Tell me what happened and why and, maybe, he'll be satisfied and will leave you alone." David slid into a chair next to Thomas DeShayne and offered his 'support' without actually touching the man. "You willing to talk to me, Tom?" He glanced toward the cameras in the room, without looking like he was looking, and noticed the recording lights snapping on.

DeShayne looked at David and mumbled. "I talk to you and I'm dead. I don't and I'm dead."

"Who's going to kill you if you talk? I can promise that if you help us, we can get you protection." _By putting the real SOB behind Webster's assault behind bars, or six feet under. _ David mentally confessed.

DeShayne snorted. "Protection, yeah, right. Protection in prison, sure." He sighed. "I am so screwed." He looked up at the ceiling, then down at the table, then over at David. "Jorge did all the talking. I never said a word."

David nodded solemnly. "I understand. Just tell me everything from the beginning."


	8. Chapter 8

**Act Seven**

Claire saw the young woman in pastel scrubs leaving in Danny's room as she came back from the cafeteria but thought nothing of it. Nurses went in and out of his room all the time. She switched the cold can of soda from one hand to the other. Fortunately, she was almost there, which was good, both hands were freezing. She walked into Danny's room and smiled. He was just waking up. Perfect time for something to drink.

Danny blinked and smiled in return. "You bring m ---" His words were cut off as he started to gasp for air.

"Danny? Danny!" Claire watched in horror as the young agent struggled to take a breath. She dropped the can of soda, raced to the side of his bed and hit the nurse call button. "Help!" She yelled not waiting for a response. "I need some help!!" She grabbed Danny's hand and squeezed it. "Danny? Don't give up!"

Danny was too busy trying to breathe to pay any attention to Claire.

A nurse appeared in the doorway and then an alarm went off.

"CODE BLUE! ROOM 312! CODE BLUE!"

Claire was gently, but firmly, removed from Danny's side as a team of nurses and doctors materialized in response to the code blue. Blue, the color Danny's skin was slowly turning...what the heck had happened? He was fine when she stepped down the hall to grab a soda. She looked around at the staff speaking Greek around Daniel, trying to spot the nurse or tech or whoever she'd seen leaving the room just before she came back but the woman wasn't there. Odd.

Her attention shifted back to Danny and she cringed as one of the nurses picked up one of the largest syringes and needles she'd ever seen and - after prepping it - handed it to another team member, who inserted it directly into Daniel's neck, right at the artery. Another was slowly tilting the young agent's head back and using some weird looking light to look down Danny's throat...She nearly gagged in sympathy as the doctor with the light started pushing a tube down behind the light.

"Trach tube's in! Edema nearly at 90% closure."

Another nurse reported on the heels of that, "Pulse is strong, if fast, O2Stats are coming up."

"Draw samples for lab...oh, you did good work." This last doctor, a kindly looking woman about Claire's own age leaned over Daniel and started talking to him. "Agent Webster...Daniel...you're going to be okay. You had a major allergic reaction to something, but your sister caught it in time. You listening to me, Daniel?"

To Claire's relief, Danny nodded that he understood and she felt her knees go watery.

A orderly, who'd been hovering nearby, reached out and kept her from hitting the floor, guiding her to a straight back chair near the door. "You sit right here, ma'am. Doc Gannon will talk to you as soon as she's done reassuring your brother."

"Thank you..." It was on the tip of her tongue to correct the misconception that Daniel Webster wasn't her little brother...but if they thought it was the truth, they wouldn't kick her from the room and, hopefully, Dr. Gannon would tell her _exactly_ what had happened and why.

"Ms. Webster?" A voice and a touch on her shoulder made Claire look up and into the face of the woman doctor who had been speaking to Danny.

"Actually it's Miller, Claire Miller. I'm married." Claire said.

The woman nodded. "I'm Dr. Samantha Gannon." She held out her hand and the two women shook. "Your brother will be fine. You've got fast reflexes."

Claire nodded, her eyes darting over to Danny, who seemed to have gone back to sleep.

Dr. Gannon followed Claire's gaze, then crouched down next to the chair Claire was in. "Do you have any idea of what might have caused the attack?"

Claire _looked_ at the doctor and shook her head. "I have no idea. As far as I know, he's not allergic to anything. I thought you might know."

Dr. Gannon gave Claire a smile. "We've taken some blood samples and we're going to run some tests on them. Once the results come back, we'll know a lot more about what caused this attack." She looked at Danny over her shoulder. "We're going to keep the tube in him for a couple of hours, until the swelling goes down." She patted Claire on the arm. "Thank you for being here. If you need me, just ask one of the nurses and they'll find me." She stood and was gone.

Claire waited a few minutes after Dr. Gannon left before she trusted herself to stand. She went over to Danny's bedside and brushed back an errant lock of hair. The color had come back into his face, thank God. Tears pricked the corners of her eyes, as long she lived, she would never forget the terrified look on Danny's face as he struggled to take a breath. She blinked several times, then brushed away a stray tear.

_Get a grip, Claire! _She reprimanded herself. _Call Doug._ Not letting Danny out of her sight, she made her way to her purse, fumbled in it for a few moments, then pulled the phone free. With trembling fingers, she dialed the number she knew by heart.

"Doug?" She blinked. "You need to get over here…Now."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

There was quite a crowd waiting for the results of the blood that had been drawn from Danny during his allergic attack. Doug, Don, Abby, Joel and Claire sat around a table in a small lounge down the hall from Danny's room. An officer from LAPD's Protection Detail stood guard outside his room. Little was said between those seated. There was nothing _to_ say. Not any more. It had all been said in the preceding hour and a half.

The sound of footsteps echoing in the hallway attracted Abby's attention first, followed by Don's. The two senior agents turned and looked toward the hallway and were rewarded with the site of Dr. Gannon, Danny's doctor, coming toward them, folder in hand. She smiled, walked into the lounge, then waved the men back into their respective chairs.

"I have now made myself such a pest in the pathology lab, that they will probably never speak to me again." She said. "But it was worth it." She opened the folder and glanced at the report inside and said "Agent Webster's blood tested positive for penicillin and by a large amount."

"Danny's allergic to penicillin." Abby said, frowning.

"Yes, he is. Violently allergic." Dr. Gannon met Abby's eyes for a moment before her gaze flicked upward to look around the table, her coming to rest on Don. "As much as I hate to admit this, this was no accident. Someone was trying to kill Agent Webster. Agent Eppes, you will, of course, have my full cooperation, my staff and myself. I take incidents like this very personally."

Don nodded. "Thank you, Dr. Gannon." He stood and excused himself. "I'll be back, I've got to make a few calls." He said to the others, then walked out and down the hallway to gain a bit of privacy.

Dr. Gannon watched Don go, then looked back at the table, her gaze coming to rest on Claire. "Mrs. Miller, I am sorry you had to witness what you did but I'm glad you were there. Without you, this whole situation would have a completely different ending."

Claire nodded but did not speak.

Dr. Gannon's gaze moved back to Abby. "I assume that you will be having Agent Webster moved?"

"Yes, as soon as possible. It's no reflection against you and your people but if it's happened once, it could happen again."

Dr. Gannon nodded, her lips pressing into a thin line. "Understandable." She paused, then added, "Could you satisfy my curiosity on one thing however?"

"If I can." Abby replied.

"Why do you have power of attorney if his sister is here? I am aware that he can assign that power to whomever he chooses, however, it's been my experience that most people, even LEO's give it to their closest family member."

Abby was silent for a long moment. She exchanged a look with Claire then opened her mouth to speak. Claire interrupted her before she could say anything. "I'm not a blood relation, Dr. Gannon but I might as well be."

Dr. Gannon's eyebrows went up but all she said was "All right. If any of you need anything from myself or my staff don't hesitate to let us know." She turned and left the room, leaving more questions than answers.

~*~*~*~*~*~

"David you are NOT on a hot run and you have no real skills at driving a cracker box." Colby needled his partner as they stood in the ambulance bay of Cedars-Sinai Hospital.

"Zip it, Granger or I'll make ya walk." David replied, good naturally.

"I'm just saying...most of these things are top-heavy."

"You wanna drive?"

"Actually..." Colby reached for the keys.

David held them out of reach. "You don't trust me?"

"I have a few words for you, David...'organ theft case and idiot ambulance driver'."

David sighed but dropped the keys into Colby's outstretched hand.

Colby looked at the keys, then shook his head and placed the keys back in David's hand. "Like you could act like an EMT or even help Danny if something goes wrong medically." He shrugged into the short, dark blue paramedic jacket that completed his 'disguise' before turning to see Danny being wheeled down the hall toward the ambulance bay. Ready for his transfer from Cedars to UCLA Medical Center.

"Whatever, man." David said.

"Hey, four star treatment." Danny joked when he saw Colby.

"Just behave yourself, Webster." Colby joked as he put on the last part of the disguise. The ball cap had a built-in wig but he hadn't worn it since before everything had gone down the crapper in his undercover assignment and it showed.

Danny looked at the wig with the hair sticking out all over the place. "You might want to use a comb the next time you go out." He quipped.

Colby scowled and, using a handy comb, got the long hair into some semblance of order, then used a borrowed hair band to pull the shoulder-length mess into a ponytail. That done, he nodded to the two orderlies who'd brought Danny down from his room. "Okay, guys. I've got him from here. Thanks."

The orderlies nodded and left. Colby loaded Danny into the ambulance, climbed in, shut the doors, then rapped on the partition. "Let's go."

"We're outta here." David quipped and, in spite of Colby's joshing around earlier, he pulled out into traffic smoothly - as if he'd been driving ambulances all his life instead of being fresh from a one-hour crash course just two hours before.

"Colby?" Danny asked, once the ambulance was moving.

"Yeah, Danny?"

"This wasn't an accident. Someone really is trying to kill me." There was no fear in Danny's voice, just a plain recitation of the facts.

Colby sighed and nodded his head. "Yeah, it really does look that way and, worse, we couldn't get a decent ID on the broad."

Danny sighed as well. "I'm no help, again."

"Don't worry about it. She's going to slip up and we'll nail her to the wall when we do." Colby snipped the old ID band off Danny's wrist and placed a new, and identical, one with a new name on it. "By the way, you are now Daniel Trafalgar."

Danny lifted his arm and looked at the id band. "Where'd you get Trafalgar from?"

"A history book."

That got a snort from Danny. "Trafalgar Square in London, I bet." He paused, then asked "Did you have a fake name when you were in the hospital afterwards?"

Colby's grin was crooked but the smile actually seemed genuine. "Yeah, I did. A couple of them actually, especially after Code broke the security wall by guessing one of the names correctly."

"Cody? Did he get in trouble?"

"A little. But he was also extremely lucky in that Director Atwater understood his compulsion to know where I was."

Danny nodded. "What were the names? Can you tell me?"

"One of them. The rest have gone back into circulation and may be in use at the moment."

"Okay. What was it?"

"Grant Jagger."

"Yeager? Like Chuck Yeager?"

"Yeah, well, spelled like JAG-GER but pronounced Yeager."

Danny nodded. "This is going to sound stupid but did you take it personally that the Chinese ...well...killed you?"

"Nah. Not anymore. Though I will admit I was pretty well pissed about it for a while."

"So, how did you get through it? The anger and everything."

"Time. And a real understanding woman."

Another nod from Danny. "If you had to do it again, would you?"

It took a while for Granger to answer him this time, and then he just looked him directly in the eye and point blank asked, "What is this about, Webster? You thinking of covert ops now that you've had the shit stomped out of you? Some sort of bid to regain your cojones?"

Danny snorted and shook his head. "No, really, no. I ask because.... well, you're the only person I've ever met who's had the crap kicked out of them and is still in the game. I wanna know why."

Colby thought for a moment, then nodded. "Okay, then . . . yes and no. If I ~had~ to do it again, I would. But I don't and didn't want to in the first place. I was just the right man in the right spot at the right time with the misfortune of knowing a man who had been a damn good soldier but who hit hard times and cracked."

"Thanks for answering my questions." Danny said, then fell silent.

"All right, why so quiet back there all of a sudden?" David called back.

"We didn't like the way you took that last corner, that's all, David." Colby winked at Danny, encouraging him to jump in on the Tease Sinclair bandwagon.

"Where'd you learn to drive, David, England?" Danny asked, smiling back at Colby.

"Everyone's a critic." David replied. "I learned to drive in New Yawk City and then spent some time in Tel Aviv. Got a problem with that?"

"Not at all." Danny replied, the turned to Colby. "Must have been under the tutelage of a Mossad officer. They're nuts behind the wheel."

"I resemble that remark." David replied. "Yeah, she was Mossad but she was also drop dead gorgeous. Who cares that she sucked as a driver."

"David, it'd be a good idea to get us all to the hospital in one piece, okay?" Colby asked.

"Aw, Colby, no faith, no faith at all." David said.

*************

"Colby, is 'Lena still in town?" Don asked the junior agent as he walked up to the younger man's desk the next morning.

Colby's eyes flicked upwards, then he nodded. "Yeah, she's still here. Why?"

"After yesterday, Abby and her team need to…burn off some excess pissiness, you know?"

Another nod. "Sure." Colby grinned. "'Lena's got just the place too. Claire and Joel as well?"

"Yeah, they need it too, especially Claire." Don replied. "She was there when Danny was attacked."

Colby winced. "Damn, forgot about that. You want me to call her now?"

Don looked at his watch. "Before lunch." He turned and went back to his desk.

"Gotcha. I'll let 'Lena know." Colby reached for the phone on his desk but it rang before he could. Frowning slightly, he picked up the receiver and answered. "Granger."

"Uh…yes…my name is Howard Ertman. I run Speedy Pawn out in Norco." A wheezy male voice echoed in Colby's ear. "I do apologize for not calling sooner but when it rains it pours. And lately, for me, it's been a deluge."

Colby jotted down a few notes while waiting for Mr. Ertman to get to his point. It wouldn't be the first time a major piece of evidence had come from a pawnshop.

When Mr. Ertman did not say anything further, Colby prodded him with "Yes, Mr. Ertman? What do you have?"

There was the sound of a throat clearing and then a door shutting. "I believe I have the stolen gun and cell phone of that FBI agent. I got a bulletin on it a few days ago but I've only now had a chance to go through all of my paperwork."

"That's all right. Mr. Ertman, can you tell me how long they've been there?" Colby asked.

"I'd have to check my records to be exact but no earlier than Saturday."

"All right. If you could wait a moment, I'm going to have you speak with my boss. He'll be delighted to hear what you have."

"Oh, certainly. I can wait."

Colby muffled the earpiece and signaled at Don, who got up and came back to Colby's desk. Colby relayed what Ertman had said and then handed the phone over. After a brief conversation, Don handed the phone back and waited for Colby to finish the conversation.

"Mr. Ertman, what's your address?"

Ertman rattled off an address. "I'm open until 8 p.m. tonight."

"We shouldn't be that long. Thank you for calling."

"I'll be looking for you."

Colby hung up and looked at Don.

"I'll go with you." Don said. "I'd be interested to see where the pawn shop is in relation to where Danny was dumped."

****************

In all of the times Don had been to UCLA to pick someone up from the hospital, he had always pulled up to the front door. He had had no idea that there _was_ a discharge lobby, let alone where it was. That changed early one Saturday morning when Danny was released. With Colby following in his department issued Charger, he located the correct level in the parking garage and pulled up in front of the Discharge Lobby's doors not a minute late. He put the Suburban in 'park' and climbed out, Colby joining him in front of the SUV.

The luggage from Abby, her team and Claire and Joel was already stowed in the Suburban; all that was needed were the people. The doors to the Discharge Lobby opened and out came Danny, being pushed in a wheelchair by Doug, a sheaf of papers in his lap and a cane across the arms of the wheelchair. Abby, George, Joel and Claire followed the two men.

"How'd a newbie agent get an entourage?" Don teased Danny. "I've been an agent for fifteen years and _I've_ never had an entourage."

Danny flushed. "Wrong place, wrong time." He quipped.

Don gave him a smile, then opened the front passenger door. "Your chariot awaits."

After making sure the brakes were set on the wheelchair, Danny very carefully stood up and took the few steps necessary to reach the Suburban while leaning heavily on the cane. A few moments later, with some help from Doug, he was belted in and ready to go. The rest of the group split between the Charger and the Suburban. A few minutes later, both vehicles were rolling out into the overcast day.

"This will sound blindingly obvious but I'm going to say it anyway." Don spoke, breaking the silence. "Danny's case will remain open until and we will continue to work on it until we find the person behind the two skels that beat him."

"You've already done a lot." Danny said. "I didn't even know you had those two until Doug told me yesterday."

Don nodded, switching lanes to maneuver around a slow-moving Volvo. "They're going away for a long, long, long time. Unfortunately, they wouldn't give up who hired them. We got what we did because of Doug."

Danny twisted in his seat as best he could to look at Doug, seated in the back next to George. Doug simply smiled.

"Oh, hey, Don?" Doug said. "Would you thank Colby and 'Lena for us? That was really nice of the both of them to take us around. Claire really enjoyed that shooting range."

"Will do." Don said.

"Is that where you all went on Thursday?" Danny asked. "A shooting range?"

"Among other places, yes." Doug replied.

"Yeah, it was great." George said.

Danny let a small smile cross his lips. "That's good. I'm glad you did something besides sitting in a hospital room with me."

"Will you promise me something, Danny?" Don asked, a few minutes later, just as the exit for LAX hove into view.

"Sure, anything." Danny said.

"Promise me that you will count to ten before going off half-cocked." Don steered the Suburban over to the off-ramp for LAX.

Danny flushed for the second time in an hour. "Okay." He mumbled.

Don pulled the Suburban into the 'Departure' lane at LAX and stopped before Danny could say anything else. There was a whirl of activity as seven people and their luggage were checked in and ticketed. A wheelchair was fetched for Danny and each LEO made sure that they had the paperwork to carry their weapons on board the plane were within reach. There were handshakes all around and Claire hugged and kissed both Don and Colby. The two L.A. agents watched the D.C. team walk through the outer doors of LAX and disappear from view. For the moment, that was the end of the Webster case but only for the moment.


	9. Chapter 9

**Epilouge**

Four months later….

"Don? You remember the Danny Webster case?" David asked his boss as he walked up to Don's desk.

"Remember? Like I could forget." Don replied, looking up from a file he had been reading. He saw a folder in David's hands and asked, "Whatcha'got?"

A smile that could have lit up the Rose Bowl all by itself graced David's face when he opened the file folder and put it on Don's desk, two fingerprint cards lay inside.

"On the right are the prints we lifted from Danny's wallet after the postal service inspector handed it over to us." He pointed at one set of prints. "On the left are prints that were taken from a recent art gallery robbery." He pointed at the other card. "They match."

Don's eyebrows went up but then he frowned. "So, the 3rd guy _is_ a thug, like the other two, just higher up the food chain?"

David shook his head, his grin even wider. "The prints belong to the gallery owner."

"No way." Don said.

David handed him a magnifier and said "Check it for yourself."

Don took the magnifier and examined both cards. After a few moments examination, he put the magnifier down and looked at David, a grin of his own matching David's. "I'll be damned. Wait until I call Abby. They've all been waiting a long time for this call. You got an arrest warrant?"

David nodded. "Just waiting to hear back from the judge."

Don reached for the phone on his desk. "The case is air-tight? This perp is not walking."

"Absolutely, well beyond a shadow of a doubt."

Don nodded, already dialing the phone.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

3,000 miles away in Washington, D.C., Special Agent Abby Stroud stared at the phone before returning the handset to its cradle. She had just received a phone call she had never thought she would receive. It took her a moment for her mind to catch up with the rest of her. She stood and walked out to the outer office, stopping between Doug and Danny's desks. George was gone, off on a long awaited two-week vacation, ferrying "Bernadette" from L.A. around the nation's capital. Doug was the first to realize that Abby was there. He looked up, a question on his lips.

Abby looked from him to Danny and back. "They caught her. The one behind Danny's beating and you're not going to believe who it is."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"I can not thank you enough for letting us be in on this bust." Abby told Don as he drove to the art gallery owned by the mastermind of Danny's beating.

Don shot her a quick glance before returning his attention to the road. "I told you I'd call if we got anything. I never go back on my word." His eyes flicked to the back seat where Danny sat next to Doug. "I'm a bit surprised you let Danny come out with you two. He's not cleared for the field yet, is he?"

Abby shook her head. "No, he's not but he's given me his word that he will not move from the car once we get there. I will take him at his word." She looked back at Danny, then lowered her voice. "I couldn't leave him behind. He needs to be here and to see that crazy bitch in handcuffs."

Don gave her a tight nod but that was all. Further conversation was forestalled when he pulled up in front of a two-story glass and stone building in the toniest section of Beverly Hills. A sign hanging over the front door read _Hudson's Art Gallery_. Floor to ceiling windows reflected the image of a black Suburban and a black Dodge Charger back onto the street.

Abby looked the building up and down, a feral smile crossing her face. "I have been waiting a very long time for this."

Don caught a glimpse of the smile and quirked an eyebrow at her. "You're not going to get carried away on me, are you Stroud?"

Abby nailed Don with the most intense glare he had ever seen from her. "I wouldn't dream of it. She is NOT getting away on a technicality." Abby turned in her seat and nailed Danny with a look just as intense.

He held up his hands in surrender. "I'm not going anywhere."

She nodded.

Danny watched the three agents get out and stared wistfully after them but that was all he did.

Outside the gallery, Don sent his team around back, just to make sure no one tried to escape out the back, then opened the door and held it for Abby. A gust of cool air-conditioned air ruffled the collar of her jacket. Don and Doug followed behind her.

"Got the arrest warrant?" Abby asked Don.

Don patted the pocket of his jacket in response.

No salesperson came to speak to them as they walked between the glass encased display cases until they reached the back wall of the gallery and an earth tone beigeish wall with a handful of doors set into it. A young woman, probably no older than 25, with jet black hair and Asian features came up to them.

"May I help you?" She asked, a bright smile on her face.

"You can point us toward Nicole Hudson's office." Abby said.

The woman's smile faltered. "Ms. Hudson is in with clients. She can't be disturbed."

Don pulled the arrest warrant from his jacket and held it up. "This warrant trumps any meeting she's in."

The woman stared at Don for a long moment, licking her lips nervously. "Do you have any i.d.?"

Three badge folios were produced. The woman studied the i.d.s, then handed them back. She nodded again, more to herself than to the agents, then walked over to one door, opened it and said, "Her office is at the end of the hall."

Don motioned to Abby. "Ladies first."

Abby grinned and walked through the door. Just as the saleswoman had said, at the end of a short hallway, was a set of double doors with _Nicole Hudson_, painted in gold script on the door. Without knocking, Abby opened one of the doors and walked in to the office. Nicole was seated behind a glass and chrome desk. Across from her, a man in a suit sat in a leather and chrome chair. Nicole looked up to see who had come in, her mouth falling open in surprise. The man twisted in his chair to see what had provoked such a response. He darted a nervous glance from Nicole to the agents, then back to Nicole.

"Is there a problem?" he asked.

"We'll be out of your way in a just a moment, sir." Abby said. She walked over to the desk. "Stand up, please." She said to Nicole.

"I will not!" Nicole snapped at Abby. "You think you can just walk in here and haul me away?!" She snorted. "You've been after me for years, what makes you think anything you've got now will stick? You've finally snapped, haven't you?"

The man in the chair started to rise. "I think I'll be going."

Doug settled a hand on the man's shoulder, holding him in place. "We'll be done in a minute, sir. Please stay seated."

"I won't ask again." Abby said, the very picture of civility. "Please stand."

"Absolutely not. I refuse." Nicole said. She glared at Don and Doug. "She's insane you know. Best stay far away from her if you value your career." She looked back at Abby. "Just who do you think you are?"

"A federal agent with an arrest warrant." Don said, coolly.

Unceremoniously, Abby hauled Nicole from her chair, pinned her arms behind her and slapped a pair of handcuffs on her. "Nicole Hudson, you are under arrest for the attempted murder and the conspiracy to commit murder of Special Agent Daniel J. Webster." Abby told her. She guided Nicole around the desk and towards the door, reading Nicole her Miranda rights as she did.

Nicole squawked in protest. "You can't do this to me! You have no evidence! I'll have your badge for this!"

"Thank you for your cooperation sir." Doug told the man before turning and leaving the room.

The man gulped and nodded.

Don followed Doug from the room, radioing his people letting them know that the suspect was in custody and to meet him in the front.

"Giselle!" Nicole shouted, when Abby led her through the outer office. "Giselle! Get my attorney on the phone and tell him to meet me at the Federal Bldg." She looked over her shoulder at Abby. "You will regret this."

Abby cast Don a sideways look. "Was that a threat I just heard, Agent Eppes?"

"I think it was Agent Stroud." Don said.

"Sounded like one to me." Doug offered.

Nicole did not respond, she merely fumed. Up ahead, a well-dressed older couple was coming up to the front door as Abby and company approached the door from the other side. Abby stopped and Doug opened the door, holding it open to allow the couple to enter and Abby and everyone else to exit.

"Thank you, Agent Miller." Abby said.

"You're welcome, Agent Stroud." Doug said.

Outside, Don's team stood waiting by the Charger.

"Any problems, Agent Stroud?" Colby asked.

"Not a one, Agent Granger." Abby replied. She led Nicole around to the passenger side of the Suburban and opened the rear passenger door. "Don't bump your head." She told Nicole.

Nicole opened her mouth to object, again, but caught sight of Danny and sputtered "You! You're supposed to be dead!"

Danny coolly stared back at her. "Reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated."

"Is that a confession?" Abby asked.

"You wish." Nicole replied.

Abby looked at her for a moment, then looked at Danny. "Agent Webster, do you mind riding up front?" She asked him.

"Not at all." Danny replied. If he was surprised, he hid it well.

"Agent Miller, if you could take Agent Webster's place?" Abby asked.

"Certainly." Doug replied.

Shortly, Danny was in the front seat and Nicole was in the middle back seat, flanked on either side by Abby and Doug. Don's team returned to Colby's Charger. Don made a final check of everyone before pulling away from the curb. He glanced into the rearview mirror and saw the grin on the woman's face. His grin quickly joined hers.

NOW, Danny's case was closed.


End file.
